Not for Anything: Dark Storm Rising
by Penitent Rebel
Summary: "Magic didn't make anything easier. All it did was complicate things. Sometimes Harry wished he could be a muggle, living in blissful ignorance of the dark storm rising." Part Five of the Not For Anything Series. Goes through Harry's fifth year. Rated T.
1. Dementors in Derbyshire

_Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, and situations belong to J.K. Rowling.

* * *

_The day had just passed from late afternoon to early evening, and Harry Potter sat on the swings at a small playground a few blocks from his house. It had been three days since he had come home for the summer. Only slightly less than a week since he had been nearly killed in a graveyard in a town he'd never before seen. Less than a week since he had witnessed first-hand the return of the most evil wizard to ever live: Lord Voldemort. A tiny handful of days since Cedric Diggory had been killed right in front of his eyes, and he learned that his beloved godfather had been under the Imperius Curse for the better part of a year. The days since had been harrowing. Harry wasn't sleeping well. He barely ate. He would never have thought it possible to grieve this much for someone he barely knew, but he couldn't get Cedric out of his mind.

Harry sat on the swings rocking slowly back and forth, running the toe of his trainer through the reddish earth. When he was a child, swinging was one of his favorite pastimes. Now he was nearing fifteen, and his favored activities had matured with him. Still, there was a certain comfort to being on the swings. The back-and-forth rhythm offered a peculiar sureness that Harry's life currently lacked. It was predictable. It was dependable. There was only so far he could rise before gravity would pull him back down again, and the swing was always there to catch him when he began to fall

Harry sighed. He would need to get home soon; he wasn't supposed to be out here at all. As his father kept reminding him, it wasn't _safe_. Harry nearly rolled his eyes at the word. As though anything was safe anymore. He'd spent the entire past year being told he was safe while his godfather and all the professors and even Dumbledore threw him at dragons and grindleylows and acromantulas. And then, to top it all off, he'd been subjected to the cruciatus, been cut up for potion ingredients, and then been very nearly murdered. Twice.

Safe. That was a lie if ever he'd heard one.

Harry stopped swinging and thought about going home. His father would be angry if he found Harry out here. He would lecture about Death Eaters and spells and things hiding in shadows. He would say he was only trying to keep Harry _safe_. It made Harry want to scream, all these rules and boundaries and demands. All for the illusion of _safe_. Harry threw his head back, hanging out of the swing, looking at the world upside down. It almost made more sense that way.

He straightened and began to swing again, pumping his legs furiously as the word echoed in time across his mind. Safe. Safe. Safe. Nowhere was safe. Not home. Not Hogwarts. Not anywhere. No bloody wonder he couldn't sleep.

He looked up at the sky, at the hazy fog of a summer afternoon. He was supposed to be packing. He and his father would be moving to London in a few days, to Sirius' house there. Sirius had grown up there and despised every second of it, which didn't make Harry particularly eager to go. Sirius would be moving there soon as well, and Harry knew he was dreading it. But there was no other choice. The world was not as safe today as it had been just a week before, and it hadn't been very safe then. Voldemort knew where to find them now. He knew how to hurt them. And he would. As soon as he was able.

"Number one rule of warfare, Little Pronglet," Sirius had said just yesterday after Harry asked for the hundredth time why they had to move, "If your enemy knows where you are, don't be there. If it were up to me, we'd be getting out even sooner." He shook his head, guilt crossing his features. "But these things take time, I suppose." Indeed, they did. A person couldn't very well pack up an entire house in two days. Even with packing spells and shrinking spells and cushioning charms for his mother's vase. Magic didn't make anything easier, Harry thought bitterly. All it did was complicate things. Sometimes he wished he could be a muggle, living in blissful ignorance of the dark storm rising.

"Harry Potter," Harry heard someone say, and he jerked out of his own thoughts. He looked up and saw a boy his own age walking toward him. He had not seen the boy in nearly four years, but he recognized him immediately. It was Scott Andrews, a boy who used to bully him when they were younger. Harry's body tensed in anticipation of the encounter. The last time he had seen Scott, the boy had beaten him up and broken his glasses and ended up badly transfigured into a dog for his trouble. The dog part had been an accident. Mostly. Harry knew Scott didn't remember it, in any event; Sirius had modified Scott's memory. Harry's fingers found their way to his waistband, where he had stowed his wand. He had no intention of taking anything off of Scott Andrews today.

"Mind if I join you?" Scott asked.

"Go ahead," Harry said warily, and Scott took a seat in the swing next to the one Harry occupied.

"Where have you been, anyway? I haven't seen you around in ages. My dad said you got sent to boarding school. Is that true?"

Harry gave single curt nod. "I've been there four years now."

Scott frowned. "Bad luck. I can't imagine being sent to boarding school."

"Oh, it's not bad. It's a really good school. The best, actually. My dad went there, too. He comes by from time to time to, mostly to see my matches. And my godfather teaches there, so I get to see him almost every day. "

"Oh, well that's good, I suppose. What do you play?"

"Hmmm?" Harry asked absently.

"You said your dad comes to your matches. What do you play?"

"Oh, erm, well..." Harry stalled, trying to think of how to explain quidditch, and decided instead to blurt out the first muggle sport that came to his mind. "Football! I'm the, er, sweeper."

"Are you any good?"

"Decent. We've only lost one match since I started, but I'm not sure how much that has to do with me. The one we lost was all my fault, though. I let myself get distracted. The captain says I'm good. He says I could probably play for England someday if I wanted to."

"That would be brilliant! And I could say I used to know you!"

"I don't think I want to," Harry said dully. "I think I'd rather be an... be in law enforcement... like my dad."

"Oh, is that what he does? Only I've always wondered. We never seem to see him coming or going. One minute all the lights will be off, and the next moment, they're all on."

"He goes out the back," Harry lied. Lying was not generally his strong suit, but he found it was easier with muggles. They would believe anything not to have face the possibility that magic actually existed.

"Oh. I suppose I never thought of that."

Case in point.

"So, does your school have cricket?" Scott asked after a short pause.

"Cricket?"

"Sure, cricket. That's what I play. I'm the bowler."

Harry shook his head. "No, we don't have cricket. I don't know very much about it, to be honest." Or care, but Harry kept that part to himself.

"Cricket's brilliant! Maybe I could teach you about it some time."

"Well, actually, my dad and I are moving to London in a few days."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that." He sounded as though he really meant it. "I've missed seeing you around."

Harry scowled. "You mean you've missed beating up on me?"

"No. No, that's not what I mean at all. Actually, I feel sort of guilty about how awful I used to be to you. I only did it because I was angry you wouldn't be friends with me."

"You wanted to be friends with me?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Yes." Scott gave a small laugh. "You were so funny. And you used to tell those wild stories about being a wizard. Do you remember?"

"Yes, I remember." Harry had made the mistake of telling his teacher about being a wizard on his very first day of school. Luckily for him, she had been taken with his stories and praised him for his vivid imagination. "Why did you beat me up so much if you wanted to be my friend? I'd have been friends with you willingly if you'd just been nice to me."

Scott shrugged. "I don't know. I was really little. I suppose I thought someone like you would never be friends with someone like me. I'd never be able to come up with stories like that."

"Well, I would have," Harry said, not sure what else to say. Scott made no answer.

"I suppose I better get going," Harry said after another short pause. "My dad will be home soon, and I'm supposed to be packing. It was nice talking to you."

"Mind if I walk with you? I should probably be heading home myself."

"Sure. It's always nice to have company," Harry said. He discovered that his lips were twitching into a hint of a smile. It was almost a relief to be with someone who didn't know all that had happened to him in the last few months. As they walked, Scott began explaining cricket to him in detail. Harry had learned the basics of the game in his muggle primary school, so it was easy enough to follow along with Scott's explanation. Just was Scott was explaining about the wicket keeper, the two of them cut through an alleyway between Elmwood Court, where the playground was, and Rosewood Lane, where they both lived. They were halfway across it when the sun suddenly went out and the air around Harry grew frigid.

"What's that?" Scott asked. "What's going on?"

Harry tensed, alert for movement. He knew this feeling well, but it was impossible! They couldn't be here! Could they? "Run," he ordered Scott. Scott just stood there, staring at him, a pained expression on his face. "Run!" Harry shouted, giving Scott a push. He and Scott both began to run toward home. They would be safe there. The wards would keep the dementors out. "Stop!" Harry shouted, stopping short himself when a dementor appeared at the entrance to the alley. "Turn around! Go back!" Harry grabbed Scott's arm and pulled him along behind him, trying to cling to a happy thought. Any happy thought. But there were none. There was nothing to be happy about these days.

Harry stopped short again when another dementor appeared. They were trapped. Harry stood in the middle of the alleyway with Scott, glancing back and forth between the two dementors as they glided closer. Harry took a deep breath. In his head, he could hear screaming. Behind him, Scott passed out. There was nothing for it. He would have to do magic.

Harry reached into the waistband of his jeans and pulled out his wand, focusing as clearly as he could on a happy memory. Kissing Ginny by the lake at Hogwarts. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" A silver stag erupted from the end of his wand. It rushed toward the nearest dementor, sending it gliding swiftly in the other direction. Then, at Harry's order, it charged toward the dementor at the other end of the alley, tossing its antlers proudly. When both dementors were gone, the stag returned to Harry. "Go find my dad," Harry told it. "Tell him to come home straightaway." The Stag nodded its understanding and charged ahead so quickly it was only a blur. Harry put his wand away and picked Scott up off the ground.

"Uhhnn," Scott groaned. Harry felt cold and clammy and weak. He hoped they had some chocolate at home. Harry moved slowly, supporting Scott as he walked. He arrived in their front yard just as James apparated, his face nearly frantic with worry.

"Harry, what happened?"

"There were dementors in the alley," Harry reported, pointing in the alley's general direction. "I fought them off, but Scott's hurt."

"Merlin's beard!" James cried. "I knew it! I knew we shouldn't have stayed here this long! We should have already been in Grimmauld Place! I am the world's biggest moron!" James let out a few more choice words that might have turned into a tirade, but an owl flew into the yard and cut him off, depositing a letter at Harry's feet. James fell silent. "Dammit," he whispered as he picked it up. He handed it to Harry. They both knew without looking at it what it was sure to say. James took a deep breath. "Come on, let's get Scott inside." He took Scott's free arm and the two of them half-carried, half-dragged him over the threshold.

"What did you do to me, Potter?" Scott asked when they had seated him on the sofa; then he promptly sicked up on the carpet.

"Lovely," James said with the tiniest of winces, pointing his wand at the puddle of sick. "Scourgify." It immediately disappeared. "Harry, you sit down, too. I'll be right back." Then James disappeared into the kitchen.

Harry sat down, trying to ignore the intense cold and sadness he still felt from his encounter with the dementors, as well as the feeling of dread he felt about the letter his father had just handed him. He regarded it for a moment before tearing it open and reading it over quickly. It informed him in terse, proper language that ministry intelligence indicated he had conjured a patronus illegally, and in full view of a muggle. He would have to attend a disciplinary hearing on July 31st at ten o'clock in the morning to determine whether or not he was to be expelled from Hogwarts.

"Looks like I'm going to have a lovely birthday this year," Harry muttered bitterly, flopping back into his armchair with a miserable groan.

James returned just then with a bar of chocolate. He broke it half and gave a piece to Harry. Harry ate it immediately, reveling in the warmth that spread to his fingers and toes. He let out a little sigh as the last traces of cold and despair were swept from him. He was quite sure there was nothing in the world better than chocolate.

James was busy trying to get Scott to eat the other piece, but he only groaned and pushed James' hand away. Finally, James managed to convince him by threatening to shove it down his throat.

They could see the effects in his face. The color returned quickly. "Hm," he said, regarding the chocolate skeptically. "I've never much liked chocolate before, but this is good stuff."

That was what was wrong with Scott, Harry decided. People who didn't like chocolate couldn't be trusted.

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" James asked just before hitting him with a memory modifying charm.

Scott's eyes crossed, and a goofy grin made its way across his face. He looked around, a pleasant expression on his face. "This is a lovely home. Harry! How have you been? My father said you were sent to boarding school."

"We should take him home," James said softly. "But I think it can wait a moment. Let me see your letter." Harry handed it over, staring angrily at the ground. James stood a little straighter as he read it. "Ministry intelligence," he muttered. "There's an oxymoron if ever there was one."

Harry couldn't argue with that. They hadn't even got it right, anyway. Scott hadn't seen anything. He was too busy being unconscious.

James looked up at Harry. "Tell me what happened."

"There isn't much to tell. We were walking home, and dementors attacked us. Two of them. They trapped us in the alley, so I ran them off with a patronus. Scott didn't even see anything. He passed out."

James looked back down at the letter, reading it again. "What were dementors doing in Derbyshire?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Harry snapped.

James quirked his eyebrows. "It was a rhetorical question, Harry. I didn't expect you to answer."

"Then why'd you ask?" Harry groused.

James jerked his head up from the letter, narrowing his eyes at his son. "You do understand the concept of a rhetorical question, don't you?"

"Yes," Harry grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in the chair once more.

James thought for a moment about whether or not to correct Harry's attitude and decided against it. If ever a person had earned the right to a good sulk, Harry had. James tried to tell himself Harry's sudden sullenness wasn't really directed at him. He was just bearing the brunt of it because he was the only one there. And he almost believed that. Almost.

James ran a hand through his hair and brandished the letter. "I doubt I'll be able to do much about this. I'll see who can find to vouch for you. That shouldn't be too hard. Moody will do it, I'm sure. And Tonks. Don't worry, Champ. It'll all blow over."

"And if it doesn't?" Harry demanded.

James sighed loudly. "It will."

Harry gave him a very pointed sort of look. The same sort of look Lily used to give him when he was trying to dodge her questions.

"If it doesn't, we'll work something out," James allowed. "I'll teach you myself, if I have to. Expulsion isn't the end of the world."

"Spoken like someone who's never been expelled."

"Oh, I certainly thought I was going to be a few times. I'm well aware what a frightening thought it is, but try not to worry. You've got rather enough to be getting on with. These things are usually just formalities, really. You'll have to endure a bit of scolding and a few threats about how they won't be so lenient next time, and that will be it. Honestly, it isn't anything to worry about."

"Yeah, all right," Harry agreed irritably. He wasn't sure he believed that.

James sighed again. Despite Harry's terrible mood, there was a question that had to be asked. "What were you even doing out of the house? You were supposed to be packing."

Harry leapt to his feet as his mood passed like lightning from sulky to angry. "I knew you were going to try to blame this on me!"

"I'm not blaming you! I'm just trying to understand how this happened!"

"I just wanted some fresh air! I thought that if I was about to have to spend the entire summer locked up, I should at least enjoy being outside while I still could! Is that so much to ask?"

James looked as though he were battling with himself and, indeed, he was. He understood quite well how difficult it could be to be to be in hiding. After all, he had been in hiding once before and had chafed under the constraints, and that was when he was older and more mature than Harry, with a wife and a young child to care for. James had also made the decision for himself to join the war, knowing full well what it could mean for him. Harry had been thrust into this fight through no fault or desire of his own. James was full of sympathy for his son.

Still, he had very little patience for Harry's pronounced tendency to throw caution to the wind. He would have thought that the boy's experience in the graveyard in Little Hangleton - where he had seen and heard things that James hated to imagine - would have sobered him a bit. Harry understood now, in a way that he never had before, that this was a battle for life and death, and Voldemort would not spare someone simply because they were young or good. He had always understood that somewhere in the back of his mind, James knew, but seeing his classmate murdered in front of his very eyes had brought the message home in a heartbreaking and terrifying way. James recalled the feeling of invincibility he had had at Harry's age, as well as the fear he felt when he first realized he wasn't as invincible as he thought. The world had gone very quickly from being a friendly place to being a very frightening place.

"I understand that, Harry." James forced himself to keep his tone even. "Believe me. I understand, but we're not particularly safe here at the moment. You have to be careful, son."

"I know!" Harry shouted, throwing up his hands as he began to pace. "I'm tired of hearing about all the things I have to do to stay safe! There's no such thing as safe, Dad! I can't spend my whole life cowering under the bed! If Voldemort's coming after me, I have to be ready to face him! I don't want him to find me hiding away somewhere pretending this isn't happening!"

"That's not what this is about, Harry. I've rejoined the Order. We are facing him. But it's not like we can just run out and jab our wands in his eye and be done with it. Attacks take strategy, Harry. And strategies take time. People who don't plan, die. It's as simple as that. So please don't think we're just hiding away. We're not."

"I want to fight him," Harry declared, his face hard.

James deflated. He reached out a hand to Harry. Harry jerked away. James brought his own hand away, hovering for a moment, hesitating, unsure, before dropping it stupidly to his side. He wished he knew what to say to help. "I know you do," he finally said. "But you're very-"

Harry rounded on him, a threatening finger whipping through the air. "If you say young, I swear on Merlin's dingy gray pants I will never speak to you again!"

"Inexperienced," James finished, thinking quickly to find a new word.

"That's just another word for young!" Harry made a noise of frustration somewhere deep in his throat before kicking at an ottoman. It fell over with a satisfying "thwomp".

"No, it isn't, and please stop attacking the furniture."

Harry clenched his fists to his side, ignoring the slight admonition. "How can you say I'm inexperienced when I'm the only one who's faced him?"

"Fine," James allowed. "Let's take down Voldemort. You and me. Right now. What's your plan?"

"We go after him!" Harry cried, frustrated. Honestly! Why was this so difficult to understand?

"Where is he?" James asked, his voice infuriatingly calm.

"I - I - How in Merlin's name should I know?"

"How will we take him down when we don't know where he is?"

"I don't know, we'll... question Death Eaters! Mr. Malfoy! We can start with him."

"And what if he won't tell us anything? What if he says he has no idea what we're talking about and has never seen Voldemort in his life?"

"Then he'd be lying. I saw him in the graveyard!"

"Prove it," James replied impassively.

"I... You know I'm telling the truth."

"Yes, I do. But how are you going to prove it? How are you make him tell you anything?"

"Veritaserum," Harry said triumphantly.

"Very well," James allowed. "Then what? We know where Voldemort is. How do we get to him? He'll be surrounded by Death Eaters, especially once Lucius Malfoy has warned him we're coming."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he's a Death Eater."

"Then we'll cast a memory charm on him."

"And Voldemort will break it. Memory charms rarely protect any information from him. So, I ask again, how do we get to him?"

"With an army."

"Where are you going to get this army?"

"We'll use the Order! Why are you making this so difficult?"

"I'm not making it difficult, Harry. It's already difficult. The Order is small. Right now, there are about twenty people in it. Twenty people can't take on Lord Voldemort. We simply can't. Especially not without some sort of plan. Otherwise, we'll be slaughtered, and Voldemort will be able to rise to power without any resistance. So, you see, we're not hiding. We're plotting. It's different."

"It certainly feels the same," Harry muttered. He sat down hard in the armchair he had vacated only a few moments before. "This is bollocks."

James gave Harry a small, sympathetic smile. "Yes, it is, isn't it? Things will be better once we get to Grimmauld Place. We'll both feel we're doing something there. And Sirius has a back yard that's under his family's wards, so you'll be able to go outside. Maybe even do a little flying so long as you don't go too high. And the summer will pass quickly enough, and you can get back to Hogwarts. Dumbledore can protect you there far better than I can here."

Harry nodded angrily.

"Pardon me," Scott piped up from the sofa. "What is going on here? And why is that picture moving?"

"Obliviate," James said, pointing his wand at Scott. Scott's eyes unfocused for a moment before he looked at Harry. "Oh, hello Harry. Where have you been? I haven't seen you around in ages. My dad said you got sent to boarding school."

"We should take him home," James said. "I don't want to have to do that too many times."

"I suppose I'll get back to packing," Harry mumbled, rising.

"No, you're coming with me. There no way I'm leaving you alone after what just happened."

"Perfect. Just perfect," Harry grumbled. "Now I'm going to have my dad following me around everywhere."

"It could be worse, you know," James countered, ignoring the sting of Harry's words. "You could have had a dad who isn't nearly so brilliant as me. Come on, Scott. Let's get you home." James led Scott out the door as Harry followed, huffing angrily.

"It's called the Reasonable Restriction for a reason, you know," James said as they walked home, and he caught Harry sneaking a glance at his letter once again. "No one's going to expel you for protecting yourself against dementors."

Harry nodded. "I knew I shouldn't have been out," he said quietly. "I was being an idiot. Only I'm tired this. Of all of it. Sometimes I wish that if he's really going to come after me, he'd just get on with it already!"

James bit down the moan that wanted to cross his lips at the thought of Voldemort coming after his son. Again. Still, he couldn't begrudge Harry the feeling. He'd felt the same way a few times, just sitting in Godric's Hollow, unable to do anything but wait to see what was going to happen and hope for the best.

James wished once again that he knew what to say to make this better, but he didn't. There was no making it better. They walked the rest of the way home in silence.

Harry stopped in their front yard, looking up at his bedroom windows. "It'll be strange to live somewhere else. In someone else's house." This had been his home for as long as he could remember, and soon he would be leaving. Just like that.

"Well, it's not like Sirius is a stranger. And you remember how huge Grimmauld Place is. There's plenty of space for us there. And it's nice now. You'll like it."

"I suppose," Harry muttered. "But I still don't want to leave."

James threw an arm around his shoulder. "I know you don't. But hopefully it won't be for long. And living with Sirius will be fun. You know it will be."

That was true enough. If there was a silver lining in any of this, that was it. Living with Sirius would be brilliant. Harry was already busy thinking up things they could do to James in his sleep.

James sighed. "I think we should start spending nights there. Beginning tonight."

Tonight!"

James nodded. "As far as I know, the dementors are still under ministry control, but they'll be some of the first to switch sides. This is probably only the first wave of attacks. We should have already been there. We should have moved in the first night you came home."

"But we're not packed! I'm not ready!"

"We're almost done. We'll come over and finish packing up tomorrow. I'll stay home."

"I don't want you to do that." They'd had this argument every day for the past three days. James finally agreed to leave Harry alone this morning only on the condition that Harry promise to stay in the house. And after the disaster that followed, James would probably never leave him alone again. He'd probably end up following him to Hogwarts, knowing Harry's luck. He thought he would scream if his father didn't stop hovering over him. At least at Grimmauld Place, James would be confident enough that he was safe that he could have a little space. He hoped.

"Go pack yourself a bag for tonight. We'll start moving things in the morning."

Harry grumbled, but obeyed. He knew that tone; it was the tone that said James' mind was made up and no one - except perhaps Sirius - would be able to change it. Harry returned ten minutes later to find James already ready. Harry huffed again and followed his dad to the floo. Rather than going through it, James dropped to his knees and stuck his head inside. A few moments later, Dumbledore appeared, his face etched with concern.

"Good evening, Harry."

"Professor," Harry greeted him with a small, confused nod.

"I'm terribly sorry for what happened this afternoon."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Perhaps not, but I should have expected it. I will do everything I can at your hearing, provided I still can. I seem to have lost some popularity the past few days. It seems the ministry is quite adamant that no one spread the word that Voldemort is back."

"Idiots," James muttered under his breath.

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "You two are wise to move to the Order Headquarters. They are located at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, London."

"We know where they are," Harry snapped.

"Harry," James replied sharply.

"What?" Harry asked. "We do!"

James sighed. "I should have thought to tell you. Grimmauld Place has been placed under the Fidelius Charm. That means it can only be located by those who already know where it is. Dumbledore is the secret-keeper."

"I know what the fidelius charm is, Dad."

James closed his eyes, and Harry realized he'd gone to far. "Sorry," he murmured, ducking his head.

"It's quite all right, but I'm nearing the end of my patience."

Harry brought his gaze up again, glaring. "I said I was sorry!"

"I really should be going," Dumbledore said suddenly. "Hogwarts doesn't run itself, you know." Dumbledore disappeared with a tiny pop.

"Through the floo," James ordered, pointing at it brusquely. Harry stepped through, his chest tight, to find Remus and Sirius sitting in a familiar low kitchen.

Sirius brightened immediately. "Pronglet! What brings you here?"

"We're moving in early. Dad doesn't think it's safe at home."

"Brilliant. Is he coming, too?"

Harry nodded. "He's right behind me."

"Even better. Run upstairs and grab his pillow. There's still enough time to freeze it before bed."

Harry gave a little laugh as James stepped through the floo. "What are you all laughing at."

"Nothing," Harry replied, rearranging his features into an innocent expression. "Nothing whatever. By the by, which room will be yours?"


	2. What Ifs

Tea was over, and Harry's stomach was almost painfully full. Their evening meal had been a terribly silent, awkward affair. Tonks and Moody showed up just in time for food. Along with a dodgy looking fellow called Mundungus Fletcher who, from what Harry could gather, was some sort of thief. He tried to lighten the mood with outrageous stories about his line of work, but no one felt like laughing. After they had finished eating, he left in a rush. Moody, too, begged out of the remainder of the evening's activities. Now Harry and Sirius sat alone at the low kitchen table.

"He's _hovering_," Harry complained. "Can't you make him stop hovering?"

"I can try, but I'm not sure how successful I'm going to be." Sirius reached out to ruffle Harry's hair. Harry jerked his head away. Sirius frowned. "He's worried about you, you know. He's only hovering because he loves you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I know that, but it doesn't make it any less annoying. It just makes me feel all the worse about it when I lose my patience with it."

Sirius' only response was a sad and sympathetic smile.

Harry stared at his bottle of butterbeer. He'd hardly touched it, and it was getting warm. He ran his finger across the bottle, writing his name in the condensation. He didn't feel like drinking. Didn't much feel like talking, either. He only felt like staring at the beaded water as it wandered down the brown glass and pooled on the ebony dining table. He wiped at the water and watched as it evaporated slowly, leaving streaks along the table as it disappeared.

James, Remus, and Tonks had long since gone to sit in the courtyard and enjoy the dying light of day. Knowing that part of the reason they'd left was to talk about him only added to Harry's foul mood. He seemed to only be buggering everything up lately, and everyone around him was losing patience. Harry himself couldn't put a finger on why he was so irked, but something deep inside of him was screaming out against his life, and he couldn't make it shut up.

Harry hoped that Remus would be able to extend James' patience. He'd never really noticed it before, but now that he'd begun paying attention, he started to notice the ways that James and Sirius leaned on Remus to be the peacemaker. Spending as much time as he did stuck between Ron and Hermione or between Ron and Ginny or between Ron and the twins, Harry found it easy to sympathize with Remus on that front. Being caught in the middle was never easy.

"Knut for your thoughts?"

Harry looked up at Sirius, whose eyes were like storm clouds, filled with anxiety, and shrugged. "I want to go home."

Sirius only nodded sympathetically. "I know you do. So do I." He looked around the low room. "I hate this place. I've always hated this place. As long as I can remember, anyway."

Now it was Harry's turn to nod, sympathy and guilt flooding into him. He'd been so busy feeling sorry for himself, he hadn't thought about how hard this must be for anyone else. Still, he was the only one who was truly trapped here. James would still be going to work every day - if he could ever be talked into leaving Harry alone again - and Remus was already underground, making inroads with the werewolves. Sirius had Hogwarts, and Harry's friends were all at home, happy with their families, probably not thinking about Harry at all.

"You reckon my dad wants to see me?"

Sirius gave an encouraging smile. "I'm sure he does."

Harry rose to the sound of wooden chair scraping wooden floor. "I think I could stand to watch the sunset, and see the courtyard. Dad said maybe I can go flying, if I don't go too high."

"Yes. The wards only go up about a hundred feet over the roof. You dad once complained to me bitterly about that. He said the courtyard would be perfect for quidditch if it weren't for that. He always did like to go high. When we were in school, I was convinced he was going to kill himself trying to see how high he could go. He used to compete against himself during quidditch practice, trying to go just a little farther. He went so high once he passed out and fell. He might've died except that McGonagall happened to be there to help cushion his fall. Even so, he was out cold for three days. Madame Pomfrey said she had half a mind to whack him when he came to, and McGonagall said she'd have to wait in line. Then James' mum told McGonagall she'd have to wait in line, too. I was starting to think he wasn't coming round on purpose just so he wouldn't have to face so many angry people wanting to whack him. But, of course, by the time he did come round, everyone was so glad he wasn't killed that they let him off."

Sirius chuckled. Harry did not. Sirius caught Harry's eye, and his face fell. He draped an arm over Harry's shoulder. A few days before, Harry would have leaned into the comfort, but today he stood stiffly, his backbone rigid and his shoulders taut. "The summer will go by more quickly than you think," Sirius said softly.

Harry only shrugged. "Let's go outside."

James, Remus, and Tonks were seated on the edge of a defunct fountain in the center of the courtyard. Water still puddled in a few places around the edges, but there had been no rain recently, so the pool was mostly empty.

"That fountain used to work," Sirius whispered as they approached. "When I was young, there were greyhounds that shot water out of their mouths. Your dad exploded them while he was visiting the summer after our first year. He says it was an accident, but I've always been skeptical. My parents were so angry they said he could never come back, though it was rather a pointless threat, since your granddad was so angry he probably wouldn't have let him anyway. For a little while, my parents said I couldn't go to Potter Manor, but that didn't last long. Once they started thinking about actually having me here all the time, they relented pretty quickly. And I may have been on my worst behavior to help things along." Sirius winked at Harry.

"Why haven't you fixed the fountain?"

"Well, after the greyhounds' untimely death, my parents commissioned a new one, with snakes and the like. It was the most hideous thing I ever saw, which is saying something because, well, you've seen your Uncle Vernon. When I inherited the house, it was one of the first things I got rid of. We thought about replacing it, but we couldn't agree on what to put. I wanted an elephant peeing. Your dad wanted an overflowing toilet, and Remus, well, he wanted something _tasteful_." Sirius curled his lip in disgust, as though tasteful were the worst possible thing a person could be. Harry smirked.

"I've been thinking of maybe putting in a hippogriff," Sirius continued as that walked. "Or a dragon. Regulus always liked dragons. Mind if we join you?"

"Please do," Remus replied. "We were actually just discussing climbing onto the roof. It's difficult to watch the sun set when you can't see it."

Harry looked up toward the roof and nodded. "Should we fly?"

"You don't need to fly to get up there," Sirius said hastily. Watch this. He went to a tree near the house and pulled himself up, climbing higher and higher until he was even with the top story's windows. A little jump landed him on a windowsill, and then a bit of reaching got him to a rain pipe that he climbed to the roof. "Well?" he hollered down once he was up there. "Are you coming?"

"I think I'd prefer a broomstick," Harry whispered to Remus.

"That's because you've got a brain," Remus whispered back. Tonks' snort was the first sign they had that she was listening.

Sirius ragged them mercilessly when they arrived on broomsticks. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I think I've had enough adventures for one day," was Harry's wry reply.

"I'll second that," James muttered.

"Is it even possible to have enough adventures?" Tonks asked.

"Yes," Harry, James, and Remus replied in unison.

"You start to get used to having too many adventures when you hang around with these two," Remus said softly, indicating James and Sirius with a small wave of his hand.

"It wasn't always our fault," James replied defensively. "Sometimes the adventures found us."

Remus gave a small smile. "But always because you were doing something you shouldn't have been."

"That's beside the point," Sirius cut in. "Doing what we were supposed to do was boring. How else were we supposed to have fun? Admit it. You liked hanging around with us."

James gave a tiny laugh. "After I got too old to punish, I started telling my dad some of the things we used to get into. He used to say, 'If I'd known that was going on, it wouldn't have been!' I think he was surprised we managed to stay alive. Especially when I told him about the time we stumbled upon an acromantula."

"That happened to Ron, too," Harry interjected. "Well, he didn't really stumble upon them. He went out looking for them."

"Please tell me you weren't with him at the time."

Harry shook his head. "It was second year, when you made me come home. He told me all about it, though. The car rescued him. The one we flew. And there you were angry over that, like we'd done something wrong. Saved Ron's life, it did. It had gone wild or something."

Remus shifted in his seat. "Stranger things have happened in that forest. We were rescued by a centaur. It shot an arrow right between our heads. I could feel the wind from it, and it hit the thing in one of its eyes. Then James here got the bright idea to try to milk it, which we had no idea how to do."

"The centaur probably thought we were idiots."

"We _were _idiots."

"He took pity on us in the end and talked us through it, and then he made us go back to school."

"I never looked at centaurs in quite the same way after that. I'd always thought they were cool. I was horribly disappointed, but after that one saved the Pronglet a few years back I changed my mind and decided they're all right."

Harry nodded. "I was scared out of my wits that night."

James threw an arm around his shoulders. "I don't blame you. I'd have been scared out of mine, too."

Silence fell as the friends watched the red sun dip beneath the buildings.

"Sort of looks like something out of a muggle fairy tale, doesn't it?" Tonks asked.

"Yes, like Peter Pan. Flying to the stars," Remus agreed.

"How do you two know muggle fairy tales?" Harry asked.

"My grandmother was a muggle," Remus replied. "She used to read them to me when I was young."

"My dad read them to me," said Tonks. "He was a muggle. Those and the Old Greek myths. I never liked the fairy tales much, but I loved the Greek Myths. When I was young, I used to think I could fly to the sun, like Icarus. I thought if I chased it across the sky, I could find where it dwells. I ran away from home to chase after it once, but I didn't make it very far before it got dark, so I went back home and decided I'd have to start earlier the next day, but then I told my plan to the house elf, and she told my mother, and that was that."

Remus nodded just as the day melted from velvety dusk to inky night. "I went chasing after the rainbow once. I thought maybe if I found the pot of gold at the end, I could give it to my parents and solve all our problems. I was six or seven, I think. I ended up lost. Luckily it wasn't anywhere near the full moon. The werewolf squad still came after me, though. And aurors. My mother was furious. She started screaming at me in French right there in front of everyone. But I think she regretted it after I told her what I was trying to do. She told me that a person can't chase rainbows, that no matter how hard they try they'll never catch one. I was devastated. I cried and cried. Silly, isn't it?" Remus laughed a little at the memory, but his smile slowly faded. "I don't much like fairy tales either."

"You used to love them," James replied. "You used to make up all sorts of stories to tell us about mermaids and unicorns and dragons."

"Oh, I liked them quite a lot when I was younger, but I haven't much use for them now."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Because everyone always lives happily ever after in the end. All the curses are lifted, and the blind regain their sight, and the good people are rewarded while the wicked people are punished. When I was young, I used to think that that was how life really worked, and that if I was good enough, good things would happen to me, but there are some curses that can't be lifted. Some forms of blindness that can't be redeemed."

Tonks glanced at Remus out of the corner of her eye. "I never had you pegged for a cynic, Remus."

"Oh, I'm not a cynic. Leastwise, I don't think I am. But at some point we have to stop waiting to be rescued. We have to carve out our own happy ending."

Silence fell once more. Awkward this time. Tense. Unbroken until Remus spoke.

"So, Tonks, why don't you like them?"

"Hrm?"

"Fairy tales. You said you don't like them either. Why not?"

"Oh, I never could stomach the damsel in distress routine. I remember my mother reading me Rapunzel when I was small and ending up furious. I always wondered why she didn't just stop lowering her hair for the witch to climb up, or better yet, why in the world did she never work out that if the witch could climb _up_ her hair, then she could climb _down_ it."

"I used to wonder the same thing," Sirius said. "I always liked Babbity Rabbity and her cunning the best. Now there's a heroine I could get behind."

"I liked Cinderella," James said thoughtfully. "She went out and grabbed what she wanted. Demanding to go to the ball."

"Yes, I liked that one too," Tonks said with a smile. "Up until the point when she was too afraid to let the prince see her in her real clothes. What good is falling in love with someone if you have to always hide who you really are?"

"Well, I should be going," Remus said suddenly. He stood without a word. "I have to get back to the werewolves. I'm starting to make some headway, I think. It's hard to tell, of course, because it's only been a few days, but I have a few leads. People who might listen to me."

"Oh, Remus, that's wonderful news!" James said.

"Must you go?" Tonks asked. "Surely it won't hurt anything to wait a few more hours?"

Her eyes were bright, her face hopeful in the dim glow of wandlight. For a moment, Remus looked as though he were considering her request, but the howling of a dog rang through the night, and Remus shuddered. "Yes, I must go now." Remus grabbed his broomstick and flew to the ground, entering the house without a backward glance.

"He's a very odd sort of person, isn't he?" Tonks asked.

"Not odd, just wounded," Sirius replied. "He's a difficult person to know. He doesn't like to let people get close, but once he's let you in, he's the kindest friend you could ever hope to have."

James nodded his agreement. "He's been very alone and very frightened for a very long time. That sort of thing leaves a mark on a person. When we first met him, he was painfully shy, and terrified we'd find out what he was. Then when we did find out, he was sure we'd abandon him. That's how it's been all his life. Except for us, everyone he's ever trusted with the secret abandoned him."

"But that's ridiculous!" Tonks protested. "It isn't his fault!"

"That's what we always thought," Sirius replied. "But the world isn't so simple, is it?"

Tonks shook her head, as though hoping to clear it. "I should go, too. It's getting late, and my mother wanted me to stop by."

"Tell her I said hello," Sirius said as Tonks stood and grabbed for her broomstick.

"Will do!"

"I'm going down, too," Harry said softly. "I haven't told Ron and Ginny about what happened today."

James gave a solitary, jerky nod.

"I'm worried about him," he said after he and Sirius were alone. "He's hurting, and I haven't any idea what to do for him."

"There's not much you can do. Just listen if he needs to talk."

"That's the problem, though. He's not talking. He's hardly eating. Thank god for the potions, or he probably wouldn't be sleeping."

"He'll come around. He's been through quite a lot the last few weeks. The last year, really."

Another painful silence engulfed them. Things were not yet back to normal between the two old friends. James was beginning to fear things would never go back to normal. He flopped back on the roof, staring at the stars. The Marauders used to lay on top of the Astronomy tower like this, stargazing. Sirius would tell them all about the constellations, everything he'd learned from his uncle. There were many more stars there, without the lights of the city to block them out. James spotted Orion easily and tried to imagine himself back in those carefree days. He could rid himself of this awful feeling of dread that had settled itself in his stomach.

"I never should have left him alone," James whispered into the sky.

Sirius flopped back as well. He'd lain on this roof a hundred times, staring at these selfsame stars, wishing on them with all his might that things could be different. Could be better. "You can't protect him from everything, James."

"Right," James said bitterly. "I can't even protect him from you."

"James," Sirius said sharply, stung.

James sat up. His face was grave, careworn. He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it."

"Yes, you did," Sirius said, not moving his eyes from the stars. "If you didn't mean it, you wouldn't keep saying it."

"No, I really didn't. My dad used to always tell me to think before I talk. I never did quite get the hang of that skill. I know you never meant to hurt Harry. But there's knowing and there _knowing_, you know?"

"No," Sirius replied harshly, sitting up to face James with hard eyes. "I don't. You either know I didn't meant to hurt him, or you don't. You either trust me, or you don't. And I'm ready to know which it is, because I'm tired of the barbs, Jamie."

James gave a bleak smile. "You haven't called me Jamie in years. Not since we started calling each other Padfoot and Prongs."

Sirius shrugged as his mind groped for something to say.

"I trust you," James said softly. "I do. Only I'm... I don't... I can't... it's a terrifying thought, you know. That he could get so close. If he can use you to get to Harry, he can use anyone. What's to say he won't try to use me next. Or Ron. Or Hermione. Or Ginny. I mean, if he's not safe with you, he's not safe anywhere. What good am I if I can't keep my own child safe?"

"You're human," Sirius replied. "Safety has always been an illusion. None of us are ever safe from the evil around us. We're not even safe from the evil in our own hearts."

"Maybe," James replied. "But I still feel... I don't know... worthless. Like everything we've worked for is falling down around us. We joined the Order to fight Voldemort, Lily gave her life for it, and now he's back. So what was the point? She died for nothing. We fought for nothing."

"She died for Harry, Prongs. That's not nothing. And we fought so that our children would never have to feel the fear that we felt."

"And we failed! Harry's right in the middle of it. He's fourteen! He ought to be worried about girls and quidditch and how many O.W.L.s he's going to get. He shouldn't be holed up in someone else's house remembering how Voldemort tried to kill him in a graveyard! He was attacked by dementors today, Sirius! And he managed to fight them off. At fourteen. Fourteen-year-olds shouldn't know how to fight off dementors. They shouldn't have to."

"And in a perfect world, they wouldn't. But this isn't a perfect world."

James sighed. "Maybe we should take a holiday. Go to Shangri-La. Lily always wanted to go there. Do you remember how surprised she was when we told her it was a real place?"

Sirius smiled. "She thought we were pulling her leg. Lying to her about it being a wizarding resort."

"I told her I'd take her there someday, but I never did. We never did a lot of the things we said we would. Sometimes I wish she hadn't married me. Sometimes I wish she'd married someone else instead. Someone who could protect her better. Then she'd still be alive."

"But we wouldn't have Harry."

James scratched at his head. "I suppose I never thought of it like that." He gave a small laugh. "Maybe I still could. Maybe we could have had an affair on the side or something."

"You'd never have an affair, James."

James shrugged. "No, probably not." He sighed sadly. "It wasn't supposed to work out like this."

"No, it wasn't," Sirius agreed. "But it did, and whatever comes, we'll face it, just like we did last time. We won't let Voldemort win. This may not be a perfect world, but it's ours. And it's worth fighting for."

James nodded and was saved a reply by Harry's call. James leaned his head over the side of the roof. "What is it?"

"Dumbledore and Snape are here. They want to talk to you."

"Dammit," James muttered. "If there's anyone I'm not in the mood to see tonight, it's Snivellus."

"When are you ever in the mood to see Snivellus?"

A tiny smile. "Fair point."

James flew down, while Sirius climbed. He didn't appear to have any more trouble with it in the dark than he had during the afternoon. "That's not my first time," Sirius said with a sly smile when James told him as much.

Severus and Dumbledore sat at the kitchen table, conversing in low tones. "Ah, James! Sirius!" Dumbledore said pleasantly when they entered. "Please have a seat."

"James," Severus said with a curt nod.

"Severus," James replied with an equally curt nod.

Sirius and Snape shared a similar greeting, and James and Sirius sat without another word.

"Let's get straight down to business," Dumbledore began. "Severus has gleaned some new information for us, and it concerns Harry, so I thought you'd want to know. Voldemort has decided to go after the prophecy."


	3. Child of Prophecy

15 November, 1979

The ancestral home of the McKinnons was large and ornate, closer to a palace than a manor, with sweeping staircases and vaulted ceilings and stained glass windows and balconies large enough to be rooms in their own right. Fifty people could have easily lived there without ever feeling a loss of privacy. After their father died, Alice McKinnon Longbottom and her brothers volunteered the space for the newly-formed Order of the Phoenix.

Whose meeting dragged on.

James, who was used to opulence, never blinked as he looked around, bored by the proceedings, but Lily was still amazed after all this time. The meetings usually took place in the formal dining room, and Lily smiled at the rainbows on the wall, a result of the sun shining through the chandelier. Her mind was not on the meeting at all but, rather, on the news she had received just that morning.

"If it's a girl, can we name her after my mother?" Lily asked, leaning into James.

James nodded. "And mine. Rose Gwendolyn Potter. It's a good name, right?"

It was Lily's turn to nod.

"And if it's a boy, we can name him after our fathers. Harry James."

"Why not James Harry?"

"Because then he'd have the same first name as me. That will get confusing, don't you think?"

Lily couldn't argue with that, and besides, James' father was a kindhearted man.

"Then it's decided," Lily said as Dumbledore called the meeting to a close. "Our baby has a name."

"Before we go," Frank Longbottom said, standing, "Alice and I have an announcement."

"Oh, Frank," Alice complained, but she was smiling.

"Alice is going to be somebody's mother!" Frank announced. Everyone smiled except for Dumbledore. His eyes went suddenly dark. James cocked his head, watching. Dumbledore caught his eye and quickly pasted on a smile and joined in the applause.

"Lily, should we?"

"No," Lily whispered. "Let this be their night. We'll share our news in a week or two."

When they did share it, two weeks later, James could not help but notice that, despite his smile, Dumbledore's eyes did not twinkle. Instead, he stood and cleared his throat meaningfully. "There has been a prophecy."

* * *

25 June, 1980

Lily and Alice sat together, leaning back in their chairs, both out-to-here pregnant. James listened intently as Dumbledore spoke, though Lily was the only person he saw. Lily was always the only person he saw. Still.

She leaned over to whisper something to Alice, and the two of them smiled at their private joke. Then Lily jerked and smiled down at her belly. "Harry kicked," she whispered.

Alice's smile faded. "Neville doesn't kick much. We were afraid at first, but the healers say everything's fine. They say we should be thankful; it probably means he'll be calm."

"Harry's constantly kicking. He seems to think my bladder is a quaffle."

Alice gave a tiny laugh as James reached over to feel the baby kicking. He never tired of that. Sometimes he was jealous of Lily, jealous that she had so much time with him, jealous that she could feel his movements. He told himself it was silly, especially in the times when Harry was clearly making her uncomfortable, but he simply could not wait to meet this child.

"You called him Harry. Does that mean you're having a boy?" Alice asked.

Lily nodded proudly. They hadn't planned to tell anyone that just yet. Frank and Alice had announced that they'd be having a boy at the previous meeting. As always, the news was met with joy from the rest of the Order and disconcerting silence from Dumbledore. James was beginning to be concerned.

"I'm going to have to take a few pink things back to the store, though. James' mum was just sure we'd have a girl."

"My sister thought the same thing. Everyone else has had boys. She thought surely it was time for a girl."

Lily began to fan herself, and James leaned over to ask her if she wanted something to drink. She shook her head. "Though if you could go pee for me, that would be lovely."

"I think you might be on your own there," James said with a smirk. "But I would if I could."

Lily sighed and rose. James missed her when she was gone. Missed the way her shoulders touched his, missed being able to wrap his fingers in hers, missed being able to run a hand up her thigh. Even now, even when they were married, and she was carrying their child, James still couldn't believe he had won her. The most beautiful woman in the world, and she loved him.

"Stop mooning," Sirius whispered on James' other side.

James shot him an indignant look. "What makes you think I was mooning?"

"It was written all over your face. Now stop it. It's unbecoming."

"Would you two shut up?" Remus hissed.

"No," James whispered back, but just then he fell silent and returned his attentions to the meeting. Dumbledore had just said his name.

"Thanks to the intelligence gathered by James, Sirius, and Peter, we are now certain that Voldemort is hiding out with the Rosiers."

Sirius leaned back in his chair and reached around Remus to slap at the back of Peter's head. "And you didn't want to go."

Peter leaned forward, scowling as he rubbed the spot Sirius had hit. "It wasn't that I didn't want to go. It was..."

"That you were scared?" Sirius teased.

"I wasn't scared," Peter said dully, the slightest twinge of indignation creeping through the words.

"Oh, lay off of Peter, Sirius. He fought bravely," James ordered. And Peter had fought bravely for a change. He'd even managed to stun Crabbe, who was on rounds, during the split second of surprise at finding Order Members at his master's hideaway. They modified his memory and gave him a knot on his head to make him think he'd fallen. With any luck, he wouldn't report it, fearing what his beloved master would do to him if he discovered one of his Death Eaters lying down on the job, no matter what the reason. Voldemort wasn't exactly known to be merciful.

Sirius clapped Peter's shoulder. "Pete knows I'm only joking. Don't you, Pete?"

Peter nodded, but judging by the look on his face, he was skeptical.

"Actually, if you want to know the truth, he saved our necks with some quick wandwork," James said. "Otherwise we'd have been caught, and all our reconnaissance from the past month would have been for naught."

"He's a veritable hero." Sirius grabbed his bottle of butterbeer and lifted it off the table. "Three cheers for Mr. Pettigrew." Peter's only response was a scowl. Sirius sipped his butterbeer, oblivious to his glaring friend. "So, Professor, what now?"

"Now we gather what information we can, and wait for the ministry and the aurors to make their move."

"Then we'll be waiting a long time," James grumbled. "The ministry is worthless. They're in You-Know-Who's pocket!"

"There are some ministry officials who sympathize with Voldemort's cause," Dumbledore agreed, ignoring the uncomfortable titter that went around the table.

"I wish you'd stop saying his name," Peter said. "I feel like you're calling down trouble upon us."

"There's no reason to fear a name," Dumbledore said serenely as Lily slipped back into her seat. James wove his fingers between hers and gave her a smile. He promptly stopped listening to Dumbledore. He'd heard this speech a hundred times anyway. Fear of a name only increased fear of the thing itself and blah, blah, blah. It seemed to James that using Voldemort's name was the best way to blow one's cover and get the attention of the Death Eaters. That was all well and good for Dumbledore. He could protect himself, and he didn't have a family to worry about.

James glanced at Lily out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't imagine what he'd do if anything happened to her. The thought was almost painful to him. He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back. "Love you," she mouthed. James felt his mouth curl into a self-confident grin. He let go of her fingers and put his hand on her knee, drawing it up closer to heaven. She batted it away. "Jamie!" she hissed. "We're in public!"

"So?" he whispered. "If everyone else had a wife as beautiful as you, they'd want to touch you as well."

Lily blushed deeply as James heard his name again.

"We'll go. James and I," Sirius said.

"Me, too," Peter insisted. Several other people around the table volunteered as well.

Benjy Fenwick stood, banging on the table. "You couldn't keep me away for a million galleons!"

Good old Benjy. They were never short on enthusiasm when he was around.

Dumbledore nodded approvingly. "Does anyone have anything else? For the good of the Order?"

"Actually, Lily and I wanted to share something," James said, raising a hand. "We were at St. Mungo's yesterday, and we're having a boy! Everyone keep your eyes peeled for cigars!"

James looked at Dumbledore to see his reaction, and it was the same as always, his face clouded with concern. He'd always been an odd fellow, Dumbledore, but this was getting ridiculous.

Lily and James accepted hugs and handshakes from everyone, smiling wide at the congratulations and the "you old devil you"s and the claps on the back.

"What have you volunteered me for?" James asked when the Marauders made it through the crowd.

Remus barely suppressed a smile. "Were you listening to a thing Dumbledore said?"

James ran a hand through his hair. "Why should I, when I've got you to give me the blow by blow?"

"Dumbledore wants a team of Order members to accompany the aurors when they raid the Rosier place," Sirius explained. "You're going to be one of them. That is, if you're not too busy making googly eyes at your wife."

James punched him in the arm. "I'd never miss such a thing!"

"Well, you'll be in good company," Peter said. "Very few people wanted to miss it."

"Lily, James, may I have a word before you run off?" Dumbledore asked. "You too, Frank and Alice."

Alice and Lily exchanged nervous glances. They'd grown close over the past few months, bonding over their shared pregnancy. They were due on the same day. July 31st. Their children would be Leos, Sirius told them approvingly. A good sign. Solid. Dependable. Fearless. And, of course, symbolized by a Lion. He went to great pains to convince one of the couples to name their child "Gryffindor", but neither would do it. Frank and Alice's boy would be called Neville, and James and Lily's would be Harry, as they had decided months ago.

James tensed immediately, his smile fading. Private meetings with Dumbledore were never good news. It usually meant there was a special - and highly dangerous - assignment, but sometimes it meant something worse. Sometimes it meant he knew something. Someone had died, or a threat had been made. Just last week Caradoc Dearborn was asked to stay back after a meeting to be told that his wife and two young daughters had been murdered while he was out on a mission. No one had seen him since, and the Order was beginning to fear the worst. He was the sort of person who would have gone out looking for trouble after getting news like that. It was everyone's worst fear. Everyone's.

James squeezed Lily's hand and drew a shuddering breath, thinking of his parents. Surely not. His parents were old; they were no threat to Voldemort, though it wasn't unheard of for the man - if he could be called that - to murder people for no other reason than to cow an enemy. And James was certainly an enemy. Three times now, he and Lily had defied him.

James shared a frightened look with Frank and decided it must be a mission. He could think of no one who was close enough to both the Longbottoms and the Potters to warrant a private telling of their demise.

"Please sit," Dumbledore said, waving a hand at the empty chairs nearest him. The four of them sat without a word. Sirius clapped James on the shoulder and left, though if James knew him, he'd be listening at the door. Sirius hated to be left out of the action.

"We need to discuss the prophecy."

"The prophecy?" James echoed. "Again?" He was getting tired of hearing about this damned prophecy. He'd never put much stock in them anyway. Never put much stock in any forms of divination, actually. A person shouldn't know the future. Especially not when he couldn't do anything about it.

Dumbledore nodded, his face solemn. "It would be unwise to discount it. It was given by the great-granddaughter of the famed seer Cassandra Trelawney."

"Sybill?" James asked. "I know her. She's a fraud! She used to spend all her time trying to convince me I was going to die after I refused to go on a date with her. Tell me you don't actually believe anything she could possibly have to say."

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I am familiar with Sibyll's habits, yet I have reason to believe this prophecy is true, and that it concerns one of your sons."

Alice and Lily reacted in unison, placing protective hands across their bellies. "Which one?" Lily whispered.

"That I do not know. But according to the prophecy, the one with the power to defeat Voldemort will be born at the end of July."

For the rest of his life, James would regret the first thought that popped into his head at that news.

"_Please let it be Harry_."

James listened carefully as Dumbledore shared, for the first time, the exact wording of the prophecy. He would be born to parents who had thrice defied Voldemort. Voldemort would mark him as an equal. He would have power Voldemort would not know. Neither could live while the other survived.

"What does it mean?" Frank asked.

"Often we do not understand what prophecies mean until after they have come true."

"Then what good are they?" James asked angrily. "What good will they do us if we can't even work out what they mean?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Frank nodding along.

"Are you saying that You-Know-Who is going to try to hurt one of our children?" Lily asked, her voice a dull monotone.

"That is a distinct possibility."

Alice responded uncharacteristically, by bursting into tears. "What the hell is the matter with you, Professor?" she asked through sobs. "You can't say something like that to a pregnant woman!"

Frank wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "Shh. Shh, Alice. Everything will be fine. We'll keep him safe." Over her shoulder, he and James shared an uncomfortable look.

"I was so happy when we found out he would be a boy," Lily said, not lifting her eyes from the table. "I hate prophecy!"

James couldn't help but agree.

* * *

30 July, 1980

The losses were heavy.

Both McKinnon boys. Someone would have to tell Alice. James could hardly imagine. Neville had been born just that morning, and now, here at nightfall, she would have to be told her brothers had died.

Benjy Fenwick. He'd caught the bad end of an explosion. If they were lucky, they'd find pieces large enough to bury.

Lucille Bones. A decorated auror. The fifth member of her family to die this year.

And others. Others whom James did not know as well, but whose names would be repeated during a macabre toast at the Order meeting tonight. Their faces played across James' mind. He was mostly unhurt, thanks to Sirius' quick thinking. Peter had been stunned, but otherwise appeared unharmed.

"They knew we were coming," Sirius shouted as soon as they walked in the door of the McKinnon place, supporting Peter between them. "We walked right into an ambush. They knew how many of us there would be. They knew our plan of attack. Those sons of bitches knew everything!"

They laid Peter on the floor, and Sirius cast ennervate as James went to Lily.

Peter opened his eyes and looked around. "Were we killed?"

"No, but just about everyone else was," Sirius replied. He rattled off names with an air of detachment, ignoring the gasps and cries that followed each pronouncement. It was the only way to do it, James had learned. There was no good way to tell someone that a person they loved was never coming home.

When he had finished, Sirius looked up at Dumbledore and those members who had staid behind. "It would appear we have a spy in the Order."

Lily let out a tiny cry. "We'll find him," James assured her. "Whoever it is, we'll find him."

"No, it isn't that. It's... I think it's time."

* * *

31 July, 1980

James counted fingers. He counted toes. He balked once more over how tiny his baby was. He could almost hold him in the palm of his hand. "Harry," James cooed at him. Harry opened his eyes and yawned. It was the most adorable yawn James had ever seen in his life. The healers moved about, still checking on Lily, but James was oblivious to all that. He couldn't rip his eyes away from his child.

His child.

It was an awesome and terrifying thought. He brought the baby to Lily. "Look," he said. "He's... perfect."

"He is, isn't he?" Lily asked, her voice soft and tired. Their friends had come and gone. Sirius had come to meet his new godson. Remus and Peter came to see the child they had already dubbed "The Fifth Marauder". James' parents had come wanting to bond with their grandchild. Even Frank and Alice had come wanting to coo over him and show off Neville and compare notes on being new parents. But everyone had gone now, and this moment was theirs. His and Lily's and Harry's.

"Congratulations."

James looked up to see Dumbledore standing in the doorway. His proud smile faded. "It's him, isn't it? He's the one."

"I still don't know, James. We likely won't know until the Dark Lord marks him as an equal."

"How's he going to do that?"

"I don't know that, either, but I know you have to go into hiding. Now."

James nodded. "Tell us what we have to do."

* * *

28 February, 1981

James sat in the doorway, one ear tuned to the conversation around the cherrywood dining table, and another listening for noises from the next room. Harry and Neville were in there, and James was the designated minder for the evening. He peeked out, watching them. Neville sat up, banging at the brightly-colored xylophone Alice had brought for him. He giggled with each note. Harry, on the other hand, had no interest in banging on anything for a change. He was trying to learn to crawl, though he hadn't managed to get very far. He'd worked out how to get up on all fours, but he hadn't figured out how to move, so he rocked in place, smiling at his accomplishment. James watched as he shuffled a hand forward and collapsed onto the hardwood floor. James got ready to go to him should he cry, but he made no noise. He wasn't much of a crier, Harry, and James was glad for it.

He rose on all fours again, a look of determination on his face. He fixed his eyes on something James couldn't see. He leaned over in his chair, and saw that it was a quaffle. James gave a smile. Perhaps his boy would be a quidditch star! James paused as he realized it was the first time he'd smiled in weeks. His father had died just a week before, and his mother a little more than a month before that. She held on just long enough to see the new year and then passed beyond the veil. Then James had had to watch his father waste away, grieving for her. His eyes misted, and he wiped them surreptitiously. It amazed him how quickly sadness could overwhelm him when he thought of them. He glanced at Lily. She looked like an angel. The sunlight shone through the window behind her. For a moment, James was sure he saw a halo around her head, and caught himself smiling again. Angel, indeed.

In only a few months' time, James would wonder if that was some sort of premonition, foreshadowing a lonely grave in Godric's Hollow and the sad black-haired man who stood staring at it, holding a wounded baby in his arms, long after the mourning crowd had gone home and the Autumn chill had begun to sting his face.

"Lily, you ought to watch this," James whispered, and Lily shushed him.

Harry moved his leg this time and rocked himself forward, lifting his hand and catching himself. He let out a peal of laughter and tried it again.

"Lily, you're missing it," James said.

"What?" Lily hissed. "What is so important?"

"He's just learned to crawl. Look at him go!" Harry seemed to have forgotten his fear, though he still went forward slowly. In only a few weeks' time he'd be zooming all over the house, crawling faster almost than James could keep up with him.

"What?" Lily shrieked. "And I'm missing it!" Lily bolted to the door to watch, and soon the entire meeting had come to an end as everyone oohed and ahhed over Harry. Lily went to him and lifted him up to hug him proudly. He squirmed to get down and hollered when her response was not immediate. She put him down, and he started for the ball once more, not to be deterred.

"Just look at him!" Lily said, edging over to James. "Isn't he wonderful!"

"Yes," James agreed. "Absolutely wonderful."

And he was. He amazed James constantly, this little person whom he and Lily had brought into the world. Little bits of his personality were starting to show through. He scrunched his face just like Lily when he was frustrated, and was fearless just like James, unwilling to stay still for even a moment.

He reached the quaffle and fell into it. He immediately put his mouth on it and began to drool happily. The entire Order cheered.

"Yes, yes, babies are cute," Moody said irritably. "Can we please get back to work now?"

"Don't mind him" James whispered to Lily. "He's still angry about blowing his own bum off last week."

"I heard that, Potter! And it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been trying to rescue you!"

"I've rescued him hundreds of times, and my bum's still attached," Sirius shot back.

"I could fix that for you," Moody growled, lifting his wand menacingly. James might have been worried for his friend if he thought for a moment that Moody meant it, but James had learned over the past few years that Moody was all bark and no bite. If you were on his side, that is.

"Gentlemen," Dumbledore said. His voice was soft, but it still cut through the chattering of the assembly. James always wished he could do that.

The Resistance returned to their collective seats. James couldn't help noticing that Moody sat lopsided in his chair. Moody looked at him, and James quickly looked away, all his attention focused on Harry once again.

By the time the meeting finished, Harry's interest in the quaffle was waning. Indeed, his interest in almost everything was waning. Neville, too, apparently, for he cried pitifully when his mother picked him up. "We're going to start leaving him with Frank's mother," Alice said as she rocked and cooed to calm him down. "These meetings go on too long for him."

"Harry will still have to come," James said. "Everyone we could leave him with is right here."

"James, Lily, a word?" Dumbledore asked, coming into the parlor where the boys had been.

James lifted Harry up, and he complained only a little before putting his thumb into his mouth and laying his head on James' shoulder. If James knew his son, he'd be asleep within minutes. James nodded gravely.

"You are aware that Voldemort knows about the prophecy," he said tersely. "Though he doesn't know about all of it. All he heard was that the child with the power to vanquish him was born at the end of July. I have reason to believe he plans to come after you."

"Us? But you said the prophecy could have referred to Harry or Neville," Lily reminded him, her voice tense.

"He has decided to come after you first. If he finds you, he will not hesitate to kill you both. And Harry."

James' breath caught as he thought of anyone hurting the tiny child with the too-large eyes who was already dozing in his arms. He hugged Harry tightly. "We're already in hiding. What more can we do?"

"Use the fidelius charm."

"No. No, once we do that, we're prisoners."

"James, I really do think it's best."

"No. We'll move. Another house. New wards. I've been wanting to get out of my parents' guest house anyway."

Lily nodded her agreement. "We'll go somewhere he can't find us."

James held in a swear word. He didn't even believe in prophecy.

* * *

24 October, 1981

Dumbledore seated himself quickly on James and Lily's sofa. "He knows how to get through the new enchantments."

"Fuck!" James shouted. He stood and grabbed a vase off the table, hurtling it at the wall. It shattered, sending water and flowers and bits of glass flying.

"James!" Lily scolded. "Harry will hear you."

"How is he doing that?" James shouted, oblivious to Lily's words. "How does he always know? Everything we try, he knows! We've moved three times in six months. He keeps finding us! He keeps following us! What the hell are we going to have to do?" Tears of rage stung his eyes.

"The prophecy-" Dumbledore began, but James cut him off.

"Stop telling me about the goddamned prophecy! That prophecy is running my life! If I ever see Sibyll Trelawney again, I'm going to kill her."

"James!" Lily said sharply.

"What?" James roared, but too late he realized what she was trying to tell him. A call from the top floor told him he'd awakened Harry from his nap. He sank into a chair, defeated, as Lily bustled off to see to Harry. "What the hell am I supposed to do?" He looked up at Dumbledore, hating the tears that clung to his eyes. He blinked them away, wiping roughly at the one that managed to escape. "You're supposed to be the greatest wizard who ever lived. Why can't you find this spy?"

Dumbledore said nothing. There was nothing to say. Whoever this spy was, he was good. It seemed no matter what James and Lily did, Voldemort was always a step ahead of them.

Lily reappeared with Harry, his eyes still puffy from sleep. He leaned over in Lily's arms, reaching for James. "Jaze! Jaze!"

"Dad," James corrected softly, though he'd mostly given up the fight.

"Oh sure, want him," Lily said. "He's the one who woke you up."

"Jaze!" was Harry's only response.

James took him and kissed his forehead. He looked up at Dumbledore. "What now?"

"The fidelius charm," Dumbledore said.

James sighed. He was beaten. He'd been fighting this for months, but he couldn't see that they had any other choice. He turned to Lily. "What do you think?"

"I know you don't want to, but I can't see that we have any other choice."

James' thoughts exactly. Under different circumstances he'd have been glad that he and Lily understood one another so well, but he didn't have it in him to be glad of much of anything at the moment. He gave a single, decisive nod. "We'll do it."

"I'll be the secret-keeper," Dumbledore said. "I see no reason to delay."

James gave another nod. "We'll do it immediately. Only one thing. I think Sirius should be the secret-keeper."

"Yes," Lily agreed quickly. "I can do the charm, and Sirius will be the secret-keeper. He'd die before he'd betray us."

Dumbledore nodded and left with a simple admonition that they do it quickly.

James plopped down as soon as Dumbledore was gone. Harry giggled, thinking it a game. He bounced up and down, trying to get James to jostle him again. Instead, James pulled out his mirror and called for Sirius.

"He's found us again. We've decided to do the fidelius. We want you to be the secret-keeper."

"Me?" Sirius asked.

"Yes, you. We trust you more than anyone else alive."

Sirius nodded solemnly. "I'll be right there."

James put the mirror back in his pocket and looked at Lily with the haunted eyes of the mercilessly hunted. "I hate that damned prophecy."


	4. Where Wishing Waits

James stiffened. The Prophecy.

_The _Prophecy. The one that got Lily killed. The one that got Harry attacked. The one that changed all their worlds in an instant.

"How's he planning to manage that? It's not like he can just traipse into the ministry and take it," Sirius said.

"I have not been privy to the intimate details of the Dark Lord's plans," Snape replied. "I only know that he plans to acquire it. The person who informed him of the prophecy during the first war did not hear it in its entirety."

James nodded. He wasn't sure he could have recalled that detail on his own, but now that he was hearing it again, he remembered hearing it before.

James let out a hollow laugh. "I wouldn't want to be the idiot who misinformed him."

Snape's face showed nothing. "The consequences of the slight are not your concern."

"The hell they're not," James snapped. "I believe that so-called _slight _is what got my wife killed and my kid maimed. You can hardly blame me for wanting to hear that bad things happened to the son of a bitch responsible."

Snape blinked twice and replied in a flat voice. "Bad things happened to the son of a bitch responsible."

James sat up a little straighter, his face hard. "Did he suffer?"

"More than you can possibly imagine."

James deflated a bit at that news. No matter how much he hated the mystery man who had once unwittingly delivered Lily's death sentence, he could not quite achieve schadenfreude. Human suffering was still tragic, after all. James closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the air out in a loud "whoosh". He ran his hand through his hair.

"So I'm assuming he wants to hear the rest of it, then."

Snape nodded. "He believes it will tell him how to kill Harry."

"Kill Harry..." James repeated stupidly.

"Will it?" Sirius asked, looking at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Prophecies don't work that way. Very rarely are they concrete."

James found himself wondering for the millionth time what good prophecies could possibly do when they were so damned vague no one could work out what they meant in time to do anything about them. He stopped himself from voicing that thought out loud. It wouldn't help anything, anyway. James felt empty, defeated. It seemed that everything was happening far too quickly and far too slowly all at once. He had the sudden feeling that all any of them were doing was tilting at windmills. How could he protect Harry from shadows?

"If we know it's what he's after, what's to stop us from getting to it first?"

"You didn't take Divination, did you?" Snape asked.

"No," James replied harshly. "I preferred to spend my time learning useful things. I've always thought Divination was a load of bollocks, and Harry's experiences with the subject have done absolutely nothing to change my mind."

Snape's lip twitched slightly, as though he wanted to smile but couldn't quite manage it. "I never thought I'd see the day when I'd agree with you about anything."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "It's unwise to discount something merely because you do not understand it, James."

"I understand it perfectly," James spat. "I understand that it's completely useless, because ninety-nine percent of the time, it's all smoke and mirrors, and the one percent of the time it's not, it you can't do anything about it anyway." Tears stung the backs of James' eyes. Tears of anger. Tears of regret. "I did everything I could to protect Lily and Harry, and I still couldn't do it. And the damned prophecy was self-fulfilling. If it had never been made, Voldemort never would have come after us, Lily would never have died, Harry would never have been 'marked as an equal', whatever the hell that means, and we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Many prophecies are self-fulfilling," Snape said. "Therein lies the irony."

James recognized that Snape was agreeing with him, but bit back a wave of annoyance all the same. James wished they could work out how to let go of their grudge, but every time he and Snape spoke, the feeling of detestation returned in full force. He was no longer angry on his own behalf. Their schoolboy rivalry was ancient history, after all. But he couldn't help thinking of the hungry look in Snape's eyes the day he discovered Remus' secret or the joy on his face when he released dark spells. And he was quite sure he could never, as long as he lived, forgive Snape for using his teaching position as a bully pulpit and torturing Harry as a stand-in for James. He occasionally wondered what Dumbledore was even thinking, letting it go on. Unless he didn't know, which James supposed was possible, though unlikely. Dumbledore had a knack for knowing far more than he should, but he also had a habit of ignoring bad behavior in hopes that it would simply go away on its own. The Marauders had taken advantage of that unfortunate habit more than once.

"So why can't we get it first, then?" James asked.

"Ignoring for a moment the difficulty of getting into the Hall of Prophecy," Snape began, "the prophecies are protected by powerful and mysterious magic. The only ones who can touch them are the people about whom they are made."

"Then we should take Harry there. The prophecy concerns him. He has a right to hear it."

"That would be unwise," Dumbledore said softly. "We're still not sure how Voldemort might attempt to use the connection between them."

Sirius shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Until such time that we are sure Harry can shut Voldemort out of his mind, it would be best if he does not know about the prophecy, or about any of the Order's plans. The less Voldemort can glean from him, the better."

"You want to keep him in the dark? Absolutely not."

"James," Dumbledore said imploringly.

"No," James replied, cutting whatever explanation Dumbledore was planning off. He was in no mood to hear it anyway. "He's earned the right to know."

"He's fourteen," Snape said.

"I'm well aware of how old he is, thank you," James snapped.

"And are you aware that fourteen year olds are idiots?"

"Now, that's not true," Sirius cut in. "Only some of them are idiots, and Harry most certainly isn't one of them. He has a very good head on his shoulders. Not everyone could have survived everything he's survived. He didn't do all that by dumb luck. He did it by being smart, and keeping his head."

James' heart surged with gratitude.

Snape looked as though he very much wished to retort, but whatever he wanted to say, he must have decided against it, because he turned to Dumbledore instead, his eyes widened in mute appeal.

"No one's questioning his ability, Sirius," Dumbledore said softly. "But no matter how talented or clever he is, he simply isn't prepared to repel mental attacks. I believe we should begin his Occlumency lessons soon. Tomorrow, if possible. Once he's mastered it, then we will tell him everything. Until then, it's far too dangerous."

Dumbledore spoke with an air of finality that hung heavily in the low room.

No one spoke.

James cut his eyes to Sirius, the look in them saying quite clearly that he was unhappy about this development.

Sirius shrugged, as if to say, "What can you do?"

James' eyes narrowed to say, "I could tell him anyway."

Sirius' reply was an almost imperceptible shake of the head.

James sighed. "It's too soon. He needs some time."

This time it was Snape who answered. "We can't afford to sit around waiting. You can rest assured the Dark Lord isn't."

James answered him with a glare. Snape rose silently and sloped out of the room.

"He's right, you know," came a whisper from Sirius.

James sighed again. Why did he always have to be the one making the tough decisions? Just once he wished he could be the one staring down his nose like Snape was doing and pretending to have all the answers. He didn't want to push Harry too far too fast, but Snape did have a point, much as James hated to admit it. Voldemort would not be resting, and neither should the Order be. James had nearly forgotten, it had been so long, but in war a person didn't have the luxury of grief. James was suddenly overwhelmed with a desire to live in another place, or perhaps another time. A time when there was peace. Had there ever been such a time? Probably not.

Another place, then. If he lived in Fiji, he wouldn't even know Voldemort's name. He could lie on the beach in his island paradise with Harry and Lily and watch the world go by. But such things had never appealed to him for long. He'd have been bored with lying on the beach inside of two days. He was the sort of person who needed to do something. Who needed to feel he was making a difference in the world. Harry was the same, bless him. He announced one day when he was three that he was going to grow up to be an auror and catch bad wizards.

"How many bad wizards are you going to catch?" James had asked, smiling at the little tyke's enthusiasm.

Harry looked at him as though he'd just asked the stupidest question in the world. "All of them," he said, as though it should have been obvious.

James found himself smiling at the memory, suddenly sure that Harry would be fine. It might even be good for him to have something to keep him busy. Something to keep him from wallowing in the events of the past year.

James looked around the table and gave one decisive nod. "I'll speak to him about it tonight. Provided he agrees, the lessons will start tomorrow."

"You won't need to speak to him. It would appear he already knows," came Snape's voice, in a slick undertone, from the doorway. He had Harry by the shoulder of his robes. "He's been listening at the door. Why didn't you cast a silencing charm?"

"Why didn't you?" James shot back.

"Because it isn't my house."

"Then why don't you get out! And let go of my son!"

Snape did so, pushing Harry away as though he couldn't bear to have the boy touch him for one second longer. Harry stepped away with a scowl and straightened his robes in an attempt to retain a little of his dignity. "I wasn't listening on purpose."

"How does a person eavesdrop by accident?" Snape asked, his tone flat and unrevealing.

Harry's response was defensive. "I was coming to get something to eat, and I heard my name."

James knew there was more to it than that, but if Snape didn't stop goading Harry, he was going to snap. "There, you see. Perfectly innocent."

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Snape asked with a sneer.

"Is that a trick question?"

The look that crossed Snape's face was gone almost as quickly as it had come, replaced by the impassive veneer he had somehow perfected since their Hogwarts days. Even so, James recognized the look as one that precipitated an explosion, and if it were going to happen, he'd really rather Harry were out of the line of fire.

The point became moot when Dumbledore intervened. "I think it's time we were going, Severus. Our meeting was more or less over."

James gave a small nod. Dumbledore seemed to be quite good at absenting himself at moments like these. The floo flared twice, and James found himself alone with Sirius and Harry. He ran a hand through his hair. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough."

"And how much is that?" Sirius asked.

Harry directed his answer toward his godfather. "Dumbledore was talking about Voldemort gleaning things from my mind, and I had to be kept in the dark, and something about a prophecy. Then dad said he didn't want me kept in the dark, and Snape called me an idiot, and you said I'm not, and then Dumbledore said we should start my Occlumency lessons tomorrow."

James sighed in relief. It sounded as though Harry hadn't heard anything James wasn't planning to tell him anyway.

"So what are you keeping me in the dark about?" His tone was innocent enough, but there was something at the edges that James didn't like. Something that told him Harry's temper was very close to the surface.

"Order business, mostly," Sirius replied casually. "Top secret sorts of things. I'd imagine your dad and I don't even know the whole story. Dumbledore plays his cards close to his chest. Voldemort is trying to get a weapon, and we're trying to stop him."

"And you're afraid if I know about the weapon, he'll read my mind or something and find out where it is."

"More like how it works."

Harry nodded. "So, in other words, even though I'm the one Voldemort's after, and I'm the one who's brain he's trying to invade, and I'm the one who fought him off single-handedly a week ago, no one thinks I deserve to be let in on your secrets?"

James sighed. He'd been afraid of a reaction like this. "No, that's not what I'm saying at all."

Harry's shout was not totally unexpected, but it was startling nonetheless in the relative silence of the kitchen. "Yes, it is! It's exactly what you're saying!"

"Harry, would you please-"

"No! You don't know what it's like, Dad! You don't know what it's like always being the one everything happens to! It's always me! Always! And everyone else always says be careful and don't go there and don't look and stay away and you're too young to know, like that's going to make a bloody difference! And now you're telling me I can't know what Voldemort's planning, when we all know that what he's planning is how to get to me!"

"Actually, he already knows how to get to you," Sirius said, his voice maddeningly calm. "That's the problem. What we're trying to do is keep him away."

"Well, you've never been able to do that before, so why would you be able to now?"

Neither Marauder answered Harry's charge. There was nothing to say. Nothing to do. They were at an impasse. The air at once felt hot and heavy and thick. James just wanted to go to bed. He suddenly felt like he hadn't slept in a month.

"Harry, I wish I knew what to tell you, but-"

"I know. I'm too young, and it's secret, and the grown-ups will take care of it, so I should just go back to Hogwarts, if they even let me go back to Hogwarts-"

"They'll let you go back to Hogwarts."

"-and keep my head down and not cause trouble and just wait patiently for the bogeyman to come get me."

And with that, Harry marched out. They heard his stomping footsteps all the way up the stairs, until they ended with the slamming of a door.

James ran a hand through his hair again. Sirius shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"He's had a hard day," James said softly. It was said as much to remind himself as for Sirius' benefit. "He took that better than I was afraid he might, actually."

"Would you have taken it any better?"

James shook his head, but Sirius knew that already. "No, he's much calmer than I'd be in his place, I think." James sighed. "I should go talk to him."

"I'd give him a breather, if I were you."

James bit down the wave of annoyance, as well as the retort that was on the tip of his tongue. He knew Sirius was right. If James knew Harry, half an hour from now, he'd be calmer and ready to have a somewhat rational discussion about all of this. While he was in a fit of temper, there was no talking to him. James wished all over again that his son hadn't inherited his temper.

"Want to play chess?"

James shrugged but sat. Neither he nor Sirius played well. They were too distracted. After three games, the pawns, tired of being sent to needless deaths, staged a mutiny and refused to obey Sirius and James any more. The bishops tried to quell the violence, telling the pawns that it was their duty to obey their masters, but the knights soon sided with the pawns and slaughtered the bishops. That was the end of the affair. It was probably just as well, James thought. He was tired of playing anyway, and it would be easy enough to bring them back into line the next time he wanted to play. He left Sirius and the still-arguing pawns and made his way upstairs.

Harry was in his bedroom, sitting on the windowsill and staring out the window and onto the street below.

"I thought you'd be asleep by now."

"I can't sleep."

James entered softly and sat on the bed.

"I wish I could be a muggle sometimes," Harry said when he heard James come close. "Then I wouldn't know about any of this. Do you ever wish that?"

"No. I just wish it weren't happening at all."

Harry nodded. "I suppose that's a better wish."

James gave a small, sad laugh. "Wishes aren't competitions, champ."

Harry only shrugged.

"I think we all wish things could be different sometimes, especially when things are so fouled up. No one wants to live through a crisis, but if you live long enough, they come to you eventually. The trick is learning how to make it through intact. Learning how to keep heartache from destroying you."

Harry nodded, never taking his eyes from the street. "I'm sorry I shouted at you."

"You shouted at me? I don't remember that."

Only then did Harry turn. He quirked a lip, a half-smile, before turning back to the window.

"Harry, about before, I want you to know as much as you can, so if you want to hear what Voldemort's after, I'll tell you."

Harry turned again, studied James for a moment, and nodded.

"What he's after is a prophecy that was made shortly before you were born. It said, among other things, that a son would be born at the end of July to parents who had thrice defied Voldemort, as your mother and I had done, and that said son would have the power to vanquish him. That was why he came after us that night. He wanted to kill you before you could grow up to fight him. The weapon he's trying to get is the prophecy. When he learned about it, he got the information second hand. He thinks if he can get it and find out exactly what it says, he can find a loophole, or learn how to kill you."

"He can already kill me. He used my blood in the potion, remember? He can touch me." Harry touched the spot on his cheek that Voldemort had touched only a little more than a week ago. James had caught him doing that a lot in the last few days. If he thought anything would be gained by it, James might have considered casting a memory spell on him, just so he'd forget the graveyard. But it would have made things worse. That was just as much a part of who he was now as the scar on his forehead. Voldemort was on a madman's mission of destruction, and Harry was his target. The boy needed to know as much as he could.

"He wants to be sure. He thought he could kill you before, and he couldn't. He doesn't want to take any chances this time. He wants to make sure that the next time he tries, he succeeds."

Harry was silent for a long while. James held the silence only because he didn't know what to say. He wanted to try to comfort his child, but there was little comfort to be had, and they were beyond empty words. Harry was a man now, by experience if not by age, and James saw nothing to be gained in pretty lies, much as he sought their sweet facade.

"I keep seeing him in my dreams," Harry said softly. "What he was before he went into the cauldron, what he was when he came out. I can't decide which is worse. I keep seeing Crouch smile when he cut off his own hand. I keep seeing the Death Eaters, apparating to him even as he burned them, begging him to take them back."

James nodded. He'd been plagued by nightmares about the horrors he had seen before. "Wait," James said, stopping himself mid-nod. "I thought you were taking dreamless sleep potion." James looked on his nightstand. Sure enough, a dreamless sleep potion sat there, untouched.

Harry did not turn. The tips of his ears turning pink was the only sign he showed of having heard. "I've been pouring them out. I don't like them, Dad. They make me feel strange. I started to miss dreaming. I mean, even bad dreams are better than no dreams."

"Not when the dreams might be put there by Voldemort."

"But I'm going to learn Occlumency, right? He won't be able to get in any more."

"After you master it, yes, but now he still could."

Harry sighed. "I don't want to have to take potions just to be able to do what everyone else can do on their own."

"I know," James said softly. "But I can't see any other choice."

Harry sighed again, lying his chin on his knee. "Why am I always the one who has to suffer for everyone else's incompetence?"

James tried to keep the indignation out of his voice. It wasn't that the Order was incompetent. Only Voldemort wasn't an ordinary enemy. "Harry, that's not fair."

Harry turned. "Yes, it is. We told Fudge that Voldemort's coming back, but he's just going to sit on his bum and not do a damn thing about it. He's practically paving the way for him to take over the world, and then I'm the first one he'll come after."

James exhaled loudly when he realized his son was insulting Fudge, not him. "We're going to do everything we can to stop him."

Harry's only response was a single nod.

"You should get some sleep."

"I told you. I can't sleep."

"Take the potion."

"I don't want to."

"You need to. You need to sleep."

Harry was silent for a moment. "I'm fine," he finally said.

James wanted to call him on his lie. He wasn't fine at all, and James knew it. He just couldn't do anything about it. He grabbed the potion from the nightstand, stood, moved himself in front of Harry, and thrust the potion into his hand. "We'll start your Occlumency lesson tomorrow. This is only temporary."

Harry gave James a look that was a strange cross between anger and resentment and defeat.

"Just leave me alone."

"I can't. Love doesn't work that way."

"I'm not drinking that."

James responded with a look that said quite clearly that he would.

Harry took the potion and drank it in one gulp before handing the vial back. "I'd like you to leave now."

"Harry-"

"I said leave."

James did as he was asked, trudging silently to the door. "Night, champ. I love you," he said softly as he reached the door. Harry didn't answer. Didn't even acknowledge that he'd heard. James shut the door, hoping things would look better on the other side of a good night's sleep.


	5. Shattered Shards

James awoke much later than usual. It was strange thing, waking in Grimmauld Place. James had always heard of people waking in strange places and being confused. He had no confusion about it, only a twinge of sadness, anxiety, regret. He wished it hadn't come to this, and not only for his own sake. For Harry's as well. And Sirius'. This place would get to him eventually. It always did. At least James had been able to keep him from going up to speak to his mother's portrait. So far, anyway. James really didn't understand why he did that. Perhaps he hoped that things would change some day. But from James' perspective, it all looked like an exercise in self-abuse. But what did he know? He had a fantastic relationship with his parents. If his relationship with them had been like Sirius' with his parents, James might have gone to talk to a screaming portrait, too. Anything to make amends.

James dragged himself out of bed and over to a window. The room felt hot and stuffy, despite the coolness of the morning. He opened a window and breathed in the fresh air. As fresh as air got in this neighborhood, anyway. The wards cut out most of the grime, but something sour always remained. Sometimes James thought it was the house: so much evil could not abide in one place without leaving a mark. Perhaps it was in the very air they were breathing.

James dressed slowly, not sure why he felt so sluggish. Part of him wished he could stay in bed all day. He was exhausted, despite having slept like a rock. He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, wondering how everything managed to get so fouled up so very quickly. He was going to strangle Harry soon, and maybe Sirius as well. But then he felt guilty over his frustration. Harry had been through quite a he had every right in the world to be angry. He couldn't be expected to bounce back, and James was a logical target for him, as James was nearly always there, but James' heart couldn't seem to catch up with what his brain already knew. He wanted his sweet boy back, wanted the Harry he knew, as trite as it was. That boy - man, really - would re-emerge, James was sure of it, but in the meantime, his patience was fraying at the edges.

He rose slowly and went out of his bedroom sanctuary. Hermione was coming over today, as were the Weasleys - the four youngest ones, anyway. Fred and George were itching to join the Order, according to Molly. She wouldn't be letting them, but James couldn't see where she had much grounds to stop them. They were of age, after all. Fine young men, the both of them. They'd always reminded James of himself a bit. Only he wished he had half their ingenuity. On second thought, maybe it was good he didn't; he might've got himself expelled.

Harry and Sirius sat in the living room, plates of eggs and streaky bacon balanced on their laps as they laughed at something on the wireless. It wasn't often that James felt left out where the two of them were concerned, but this morning he did. He was almost jealous that Harry could do what he wanted to so badly but couldn't quite manage - pretend like the curse had never happened. And he was jealous that Sirius could also do what he wanted to do, but couldn't quite manage - ignore Harry's increasingly-inappropriate outbursts and cut straight to the heart of things.

"It's easier for me," Sirius had said last night when James let slip the secret. It was a good thing, he supposed, speaking without thinking, being unguarded like he used to be.

"Making sure he behaves isn't in the godfather job description."

"Want to change job descriptions?" James had asked, only partly joking.

Sirius had laughed. "Not for anything in the world."

"Are there any more eggs?" James asked.

Harry looked up, still smiling. "Morning, Dad."

James gave a small nod. "Morning."

"We were starting to think you'd never wake up. I hope you don't mind that we didn't wait for you."

"Everything's in the kitchen, mate," Sirius said. "There's toast, too. Harry buttered it for you and everything."

"Thank you, Harry," James said around a yawn and went to help himself. Cold eggs had never been a favorite, so he cut up some lettuce and tomato and made a sandwich with the bacon.

"When is everyone getting here?" Harry asked as soon as James returned.

"Around eleven, I think."

"That's soon!"

"Is it? What time is it?" James looked at the clock. "Ten-thirty? Why didn't anyone wake me sooner?"

Sirius shrugged. "We thought you could use a lie-in."

James gave a half smile. They might have been right about that.

James had just finished his sandwich and was washing up when the Weasleys arrived. Amazing how quickly they could fill a house. Sometimes James wasn't sure how Arthur and Molly stood it. He liked a bit of excitement as well as the next person, but he'd grown to covet his peace and quiet over the years.

Other times, he was jealous of them. He and Lily had wanted a house full of children. Not seven, no, never that many, but three or four. They'd made the plans, talking and laughing, imagining what their children would be like. Smart and talented and kind, just like their mother, James always hoped. Adventurous and compassionate, Lily said, like their father. There was so much hope in those plans. So much love poured into them.

And then, of course, there were the dark things that went unsaid. The elephant that was always in the room: hanging over them, never discussed. The fear that one of them might not survive the war. James had never thought he'd be the sole survivor, somehow. He'd always assumed they'd either live together or die together. It had crossed his mind that he might die and leave Lily and Harry alone, but he'd never thought it might be the other way around.

The kids disappeared quickly, out into the courtyard to play three-on-a-side quidditch, leaving James and Sirius alone once again. James watched from the window, glad to see Harry smiling and laughing. He was just turning to Sirius to suggest a game of chess when the floo flared, and Remus came out, looking beside himself. James and Sirius were on their feet in an instant. Sirius found his voice first. "What is it?"

"The werewolves. I think we've lost them. I've been speaking to them one on one, you know, trying to win them over to our side. Last night, I spoke with a chap called Roger Welton, and he said he'd like to see Voldemort dead as much as the rest of us, but that he didn't dare go against Fenrir Greyback. So, I took a few of the werewolves I've managed to convince, and we went to speak with Greyback. He said he'll never join with anyone who supports the ministry, and that he thinks werewolves shouldn't pick sides. He said we should be on our own side, because no one else is for us."

Remus looked up at James and Sirius for a moment, as though expecting them to protest, but neither could really argue the point. "That could change, if enough werewolves prove themselves loyal to the ministry," James finally said, hating the lie even as he told it.

Remus only shook his head. "It won't change, but it doesn't matter. We can't repay evil for evil. Especially not how he wants to do it. He thinks werewolves should declare an all-out war against the wizarding community. Target children, the younger the better, then take them from their homes and raise them up as part of some sort of werewolf underground. Raise them to hate wizards just as much as he does, raise them to think biting people is the right thing to do. And then, once we've an army, we can march into the ministry and demand what we want. Take it over if we have to."

"It would never work. There are far too many wizards, and far too few werewolves who would ever think that way."

"You'd be surprised," Remus said darkly. "Living without hope does strange things to a person."

"How many has he convinced?" Sirius asked.

"I don't know. More than I have, anyway. Honestly, though, most werewolves want nothing to do with it. As far as they can see, there's nothing in it for them either way. No matter who's in power, we lose. That's what Welton said, anyway. The devil you know and the devil you don't know. That sort of thing." Remus shuddered. "Greyback said something similar." He looked up, desperation in his eyes. "He's not just going to attack. He's already started. He said he's the one who bit me." Remus wrapped his arms around himself, as though for comfort and spoke the next words in a whisper. "He said he still remembers what I taste like. Said I tasted sweet."

James and Sirius were silent as they took that in. "Aside from Wormtail, I never thought there'd be anyone I'd like to murder," Sirius finally said.

Remus gave a hollow laugh. "Still think I should ask your cousin out, Sirius?"

Sirius ran a hand through his hair and plopped into a chair. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do."

Remus deflated, as though he'd suddenly lost all his fight. "I can't," he whispered, dropping into a chair himself, though in a fragile, weak sort of way that was very unlike Sirius' confident plop.

"Why can't you?" James asked, seating himself as well, forming a friendly triangle. He couldn't count the number of times they'd sat like this. It felt like old times, like wars and curses and dark wizards could never touch them, could never hurt them. It certainly didn't feel like they already had.

"It's too dangerous for her," Remus snapped. "I'm too dangerous for her."

"And she's such a stranger to dangerous situations," Sirius added.

"Perhaps this is not the time to be having this conversation?" James said suddenly. He didn't want to think about war anymore. Didn't want to listen to Remus sabotage his own happiness anymore. Didn't want to listen to any of it. The frustration seethed up without warning. It always seemed to happen that way. He was perfectly fine until, quite suddenly, he wasn't.

Remus jerked his head up. He knew that look on James' face. It was the look James got when he was thinking something that was painfully true - so painfully true that he didn't want to say it, yet it begged to be said, and so Remus could not let well enough alone. He would beg to be told until James finally said it, and then it would sting, and they would be angry, and Remus never could understand why he insisted on doing this to himself, knowing all of that would happen, but knowing was somehow better than not knowing. Because if he didn't know, he had to imagine, and what he imagined was usually worse. "You're thinking something, James."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. I can tell. What is it?" Remus persisted.

"It's nothing."

"You're an awful liar. Go on and tell me already."

"Fine. Just remember that you asked for it, because what I was thinking is that you're a fool. And you're using your lycanthropy as an excuse. You always have."

Remus made a small noise of hurt in the back of his throat. James ignored it and continued. "You're letting one night a month control your entire life. Hell, Lily's PMS lasted longer than that, but she didn't let it control her world. And I know that people are prejudiced, and I know you can't find work, and I know it's hard, I understand all those things, but Merlin's toejam, Remus! You have an opportunity here that some people never get in their whole lives. This girl loves you, and she wants to be with you, and she doesn't care that you're a werewolf. You hear that, Remus? She doesn't care. Which means you shouldn't care! Life's too short for this cowardly shite. And it doesn't become you anyway. You can't spend all your time sitting around twiddling your thumbs and waiting for life to happen to you. Sometimes, you have to go out and grab it."

"Well," Remus said, not sure what else to say. "Well, there you are, then." He stood, planning to apparate away, but it occurred to him very suddenly that in this mood, he would most likely splinch himself, and besides that he couldn't apparate out of Grimmauld Place anyway, not that he had anywhere to apparate _to_. Just an empty, dingy cottage. So he instead settled for storming out, something very rare indeed for him. James did not follow. Remus couldn't decide if he wished he would or not.

"I shouldn't have said that," James said the moment he and Sirius were alone. Sirius only shrugged until James shot him a piercing look of the sort that demands answers.

"Perhaps not," Sirius said with a shrug. "But you're right."

"I'd give just about anything to have Lily back, even for a moment. Just to hold her again. Just to hear her voice. I've forgotten what her voice even sounded like, Sirius. Isn't that awful? And here he's throwing away a chance at love just because he's afraid of what might happen. He was afraid when we became animagi and tried to talk us out of it, remember? And that turned out to be bloody brilliant! I wish he weren't always too damned scared to take a chance."

Sirius let out a small chuckle. "How in the world did we ever manage to convince him to keep being friends with us?"

"I think he thought he could set us right."

Sirius shook his head. "Nah, I think he genuinely liked us. Can't think why."

"I've always found myself very likeable!" James protested indignantly.

"Let's take a vote," Sirius said. "Everyone who thinks James is likeable, raise a hand." James and Sirius both raised their hands. "That ayes have it," Sirius announced solemnly. "The motion passes."

"Good think we've got you here to keep everything in order," James said.

Sirius shook his head again. "It's a difficult job. You wouldn't know anything about that. Your job's far too cushy. You've gone soft!"

James smirked. "You wouldn't know a thing about difficult jobs. Teaching? That's nothing! You just get to hang around and play all day!"

It was Sirius' turn to smirk. "You wouldn't last ten minutes."

"I'm sure I wouldn't. Hanging around teenagers? Trying to get them to pay attention? I've no idea how you do it, mate."

"The trick is to be funny."

"So, I'd be hopeless then."

"Dreadful," Sirius agreed.

"No, now's the part where you say, 'James, you're hilarious!' Go on, then."

"But I was agreeing with you," Sirius said defensively. "Isn't that what a friend is supposed to do?"

James chuckled. "I was surprised you voted for me back there. I was expecting a tie."

Sirius shrugged. "Then we'd have been deadlocked for hours, and that gets tedious after a while."

"So you threw your vote, then?"

"Well, if you want to be technical..." Sirius grinned. "Course I voted for you, mate. I suppose you're a likeable enough fellow." Now Sirius sighed. "Remus will be back. He never stays angry long."

"It's close to the full moon. His temper is shorter at the full moon. I really shouldn't have said that."

Sirius' only response was a shrug.

"I suppose it's only fair," James muttered, running a hand through his hair. It always amused him when he caught Harry doing the same thing. His dad did as well. Made James wonder if it was genetic, or flattery. "Everyone else is cross with me. Remus may as well be, too. Then at least I can get it all over with at once."

"Everyone isn't cross with you, Prongs. I think Remus is the only one, and he'll get over it."

James cut his eyes sideways. "Harry threw me out of his room last night."

Sirius nodded once. "He told me he had. Feels awful about it, by the way. Only he thinks you're hovering."

"I'm not hovering."

"You might be hovering a little."

"I'll thank you to stay out of it!"

Sirius held up his hands innocently. "Don't shout at me, mate. I'm trying to help here."

James was of two minds. Part of him wanted to tell Sirius to shove it and perhaps try to find Remus and apologize. Another part knew the first part was a first class idiot. He split the difference, muttering a quick sorry as he rose to leave.

"Prongs," Sirius said as James left. A plea. James left it unanswered, a wonky buzzing sounding in his ears. He was vaguely aware that he was being an arse, but he couldn't seem to help it all of a sudden. Every tiny thing annoyed him. Stress, he supposed. He felt very suddenly like everything was wrong. Perhaps because everything _was_ wrong. He went across the hall to peak out the back windows there. The quidditch game was in full swing, but Harry and Ginny had sneaked off to a corner to sit under a crooked tree. James had been the one to knock it over - the one time he was invited to Grimmauld Place, though he'd had some help from the rogue fountain statue. He was surprised it had survived.

Harry appeared to be doing most of the talking. A serious conversation, by the looks of it. He pulled blades of grass out of the ground as he talked, shredding them in his fingers. He was probably telling Ginny everything he thought he couldn't tell James. James almost hoped he was.

Almost.

That was the problem with boarding school, really. The staff at Hogwarts was top notch, with only a few exceptions, but they weren't parents. They could never give the students the sort of one-on-one attention that they needed, and so the kids were left to raise one another. Eleven year olds parenting eleven year olds. For kids like Sirius and Peter, it was brilliant to be out from under the thumb of abusive parents, or away from the pain of neglectful ones. For kids like James and Remus, and Harry too, James hoped, it was difficult. More difficult for the parents, though. James was sure of that much.

"Hey," came a small voice. James turned. It was Remus.

"Hey," James said softly. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I didn't mean it."

Remus sighed. "Yes, you did."

A shrug. "I suppose I did. Still shouldn't have said it." James returned his gaze to the courtyard. "I'm glad he has Ginny."

He saw Remus' nod in the windowpane.

"You may have been right," Remus offered softly. "Perhaps, once I've screwed up my courage a bit, I'll ask her out for sushi."

"Sushi isn't a date, it's a threat!" Sirius called from the other room.

"Who gave you permission to listen in?" Remus called back.

"Since when did I wait for permission?" Sirius retorted.

Remus only shrugged. He couldn't exactly argue with that.

"Well if you're only going to listen in, you should at least come in here so we don't have to yell at you," James yelled.

"I prefer yelling!" Sirius yelled back. "And besides, I'm plotting in here! I'm thinking of throwing the china against the wall."

Remus smirked. Throwing the china against the wall was always a pleasant pastime, and good for working out nervous energy. The Black family china was charmed to be unbreakable, but at the slightest nudge, it would shatter spectacularly out of sheer spite.

"It just likes to make a body feel bad," Sirius explained the first time Remus accidentally broke some. "It'll get up and go back together in a few moments." And indeed, it had. The best part of all was that it mended itself in significantly less time than it took to break all of it, even with all three Marauders going at it with all their combined destructive force. That meant there was a neverending supply of shattering.

"I could be up for throwing some china," James said, starting for the door. He looked back toward the courtyard. "I wonder if Fred and George would loan us their beater bats."

"Oh, I'm sure Sirius probably has some stashed around here somewhere," Remus said with a small smile.

"In the attic!" Sirius called. There are two sets up there. Be a lamb and bring me one, too, while you're at it. Only I'm in no mood to talk to my mother today."

Remus quirked an eyebrow. "Be a lamb?" he mouthed at James.

James only shrugged and started up the stairs.

* * *

"My dad's worried. More than he's letting on. I can tell," Harry said nervously.

Ginny moved closer, even though she was already nearly as close as she could be without sitting in Harry's lap, not that Harry would have minded that.

"My parents were like that after... the diary."

Harry tensed. He hadn't heard Ginny talk about their experience in the chamber much. Only a few comments here and there told she still thought about it at all, though Harry was sure she did. How could a person not think about something like that? Even if two years _had_ gone by. Two years felt like forever to Harry. It seemed like everyone was always saying how time flew by, but it seemed to Harry to drag on. Especially now. It was hard to believe it had only been two weeks since Cedric died. It felt like it had happened in another lifetime.

"My brothers, too," Ginny continued. "They worried all the time. Mum would come sit on my bed at night and watch me sleep."

Harry grinned. "My dad does that. He thinks I don't know."

Ginny shook her head. "Parents."

"I wish I knew what to say to get him to leave me alone. But whenever I tell him to, he gets all sad and... huffy. It's like he wants me to do something, but I don't know what it is."

"It was scary when you were gone, Harry. We didn't know what had happened to you. Your dad was nearly beside himself. And then, when you came back, and Cedric was... you know... we all thought you were, too. It was awful."

Harry wasn't sure what to say to that. It wasn't like he'd been strolling in the park. "I wasn't exactly having the time of my life, either, you know."

"I know," Ginny said softly.

"Then what are you playing at?"

Ginny lifted her head from Harry's shoulder. "Nothing. I just thought... never mind."

Harry sighed. It seemed he was mucking everything up lately. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I don't know why I'm so cross. I can't help it."

Ginny nodded knowingly, laying her head on his shoulder once more. "Yeah," she agreed. She wanted to say more, but didn't, and the empty words hung in the air.

"Did you feel that way, after the chamber?"

She nodded. "By July, Mum was threatening to ship me off to Auntie Muriel."

"A fate worse than death," Harry said gravely. He'd met Ginny's Auntie Muriel only once, when he was very young, and it was an experience he was sure he'd never forget.

Ginny let out a small laugh. "I knew she wasn't really going to. She used to tell Fred and George that all the time, and she never did."

"My dad used to threaten to send me to live with Sirius. It probably didn't have quite the same effect. I thought living with Sirius would be brilliant."

"Living with Sirius _would _be brilliant!"

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional yells of Ginny's brothers, mostly directed toward Hermione, who was hopeless at quidditch. It had taken quite a lot of pressing to get her to play in the first place, but Harry thought it was good for her to do things she was bad at every once and again.

"I've been dreaming about him," Harry said, breaking the silence. "Voldemort, in the graveyard, killing Cedric. My dad made me drink a dreamless sleep potion last night, but I still had them, early this morning, after it wore off, I reckon. And other dreams, too. Odd ones. So I've been trying not to sleep. Don't tell my dad. He'll be weird about it."

"What sorts of dreams?"

"Mostly shadows, strange lights. I can't work out what it is, but it's the same. It's always the same. It's been going on for a couple of nights now. I sort of feel like I'm supposed to go somewhere, but I can't make out where. It's a room, maybe? The lights are strange, like they want to be followed."

"Like a will-o-the-wisp, maybe?"

"Maybe, except I'm inside. I always wake up feeling antsy, and this morning, I thought my scar was prickling, but I think it must've been my imagination."

"If it's your scar, you should tell your dad, Harry. Isn't that supposed to be serious?"

Harry shrugged. "I told you. I think I made it up. If it happens again, I'll tell him. Only I don't want to give him something else to worry about. Any anyway, I'm supposed to start Occlumency this afternoon. That'll make it stop."

"But, Harry, I still think..."

"I know," Harry said softly. "And if it happens again, I'll tell my dad. I promise."

Ginny nodded. "I'm sorry," she said. "About the dreams and Cedric and... and everything."

Harry smiled, a sad sort of smile. "You know what? When I'm with you, I sort of forget all of that." And he did, in a weird, foggy sort of way. Not exactly forget, but nothing seemed to hurt quite so much.

"And Team Weasley wins!" Fred shouted, breaking into the moment.

"Oy!" Ron complained. "I'm a Weasley, too."

"But she isn't," George said, pointing at Hermione, who was landing with a look of relief on her face. "And anyway, it doesn't matter what you're called. You lost."

Ron scowled, but stayed quiet. Harry didn't blame him. A person could never get the last word when Fred and George were involved.

"We should go in," Harry whispered. "Maybe we can get some peace and quiet inside." Ginny agreed, but as soon as they stepped in, they knew they would get no such thing. From somewhere in the vicinity of the dining room came the sound of breaking china. A brief investigation found the Marauders happily shattering the stuff with beater bats.

"Ah, Harry! Ginny!" James said, the moment he saw them. "Care to join us? This is a great way to work off your frustrations."

Harry considered it for a moment, but Ginny slipped her hand into his. "Maybe later," he told his dad, and he and Ginny sneaked off to an upstairs room.

"I hope she snogs him good," Remus said, the moment they were gone.

"Remus!" James scolded.

"What?" Sirius cut in "Surely you don't think they never snog."

"Of course I know they snog, only I prefer not thinking about it."

"I've been hoping she'd snog him for days, ever since you arranged for them to come. Might cool him off a bit."

James only shrugged. Sirius might be right about that. Maybe he could use someone to snog, too. Only he never seemed to have time to meet anyone. He tossed a platter into the air that was half as wide as James was tall and smacked it in the middle with his bat. Breaking Sirius' china never seemed to get old.

* * *

A/N: Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. (And ten points for anyone who knows where that quote is from.)

So, I think I owe all of you an explanation for my general suckage the past two+ months. I've been working toward certification in my chosen career, so I've been drowning in papers and questions and interviews and all sorts of madness. On a happy note, I received certification, or the first round of it anyway, about two weeks ago. I'll be starting a residency and doing all of this again in three years, but that's three years away, so I'm not going to think about that just yet. With certification came a promotion and a transfer. So Husband and the cat and I packed up and moved to a land of very different things last week. I get to be a head honcho now, which is exciting and terrifying all at the same time.

For now, we're unpacking everything and trying to keep our cool while fighting the spider infestation in the new place and trying to get settled. I start working next week. I'm hoping that once we get settled and I figure out the rhythm of the new position, which is going to be significantly more involved than the old position, I can get back to posting on a slightly more regular basis, because believe me, I know how hard it is to wait for chapters, and I really am sorry y'all had to wait so long. Besides that, I love this a lot, and I've really missed it. I don't think I realized how much until I sat down today for a writing marathon. My hope is to be able to post new chapters about once a month or so. We'll see how that works for me. For those of you watching for Marauder's Tale, I haven't forgotten that, either. As soon as I'm done here, I'm going to start on the next chapter of that one, so be looking for that. And until then!


	6. Rattled, Resolved

_AN: Obsidianembrace deserves a lot of credit for this chapter. She went above and beyond the call of duty to help me work out the kinks._

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"Try to clear your mind." Dumbledore smiled encouragingly, and Harry nodded. He still wasn't clear one what, exactly, he was supposed to be doing. A person couldn't just not think about anything, could he? "When I was first learning, I would focus on one thing to the exclusion of all others. The color of a certain someone's eyes, perhaps." Now Dumbledore's smile became a knowing one, and Harry nodded again, pulling up the memory of Ginny this morning, talking in the court yard. Eyes the color of hot cocoa: the sort of eyes that reminded a person of home. Warm and deep and kind.

"Are you ready?"

Harry wasn't, but he nodded anyway. Sirius made a noise of annoyance. James shifted in his chair. Harry was distracted when the spell hit him. His mind swam with pictures, one right after the other, like when Dudley used to flip channels on the telly, so quickly he was almost dizzy with them. Spinning with James in the back yard, telling his friends about his father being a wizard, meeting Snape on the first day of classes, freezing in the wake of dementors, chained in the graveyard as he watched Voldemort emerge from the cauldron. A sudden surge of rage twisted his insides painfully. Somewhere in the background someone yelled, and the Grimmauld Place parlor swam back into focus.

Harry's scar burned and his stomach churned. He retched down his front, not caring even as he did it.

"Harry? Are you all right?" James' eyes were full of concern, worry, fear. Harry was on the ground, angry aftershocks still churning through him, but it felt wrong. Foreign, somehow. It wasn't his own anger he felt. This anger was deep and ancient and primal. His heart pumped too hard, making his chest feel sore. He felt, rather than heard, the spell that cleaned his robes of the sick.

Harry sat up. The world was blurry. "Where are my glasses?" James handed them over. "What happened?"

James' face was grim as it came into focus. "Are you all right? Can you stand?"

"I think so." Harry stood on shaky legs. He looked over and saw that Dumbledore was also on the ground. He and Sirius were both incanting in a steady stream, their wands pointed at Dumbledore's arm. The skin was sizzling, roiling and hissing like boiling water.

Harry's heart beat now with fear. His own, thankfully. "What happened?" A whisper.

"You cast a curse at Dumbledore. A very dark curse."

"I don't know any spells that can do that!"

"I know," James replied.

"Then how did I cast it?"

"I don't know."

There were a hundred questions Harry wanted to ask, but the look on his father's face told him he ought to be quiet, so he watched helplessly as Sirius and Dumbledore worked to undo the damage Harry had caused. Guilt clawed at his belly, but was white noise in the background, all but overshadowed by confusion. He was thinking about the graveyard. He wasn't trying to cast a spell at all. He didn't even want to think about how powerful it must have been to have affected Dumbledore. Though he supposed the man wasn't invincible. It just felt that way. Harry wanted so badly to believe he was, because if Dumbledore was invincible, then Voldemort could never win.

"I'm sorry," Harry murmured, surprised by how panicked his voice sounded in his ears. James put an arm around his shoulder and mumbled that it wasn't his fault.

But it was.

Harry knew what he felt. Something had happened to him. Something inside of him had wanted to cast the spell. Something inside of him had wanted to hurt Dumbledore.

"I think it's fixed," Harry heard Sirius say. Harry looked and saw the arm looking more or less back to normal.

"Thank you, Sirius," came Dumbledore's terse reply.

"Sir, I didn't mean to. I promise. I don't know what happened. I swear it!"

"Harry, we know you didn't mean to," Sirius replied. He hefted himself to his feet and dusted off his knees. More to give him something to do than for any other reason. He leveled his gaze at Harry.

Dumbledore announced he needed to think and retired to the kitchen. James and Sirius and Harry stood stock still in his absence, pointedly not looking at one another. Sirius broke the silence.

"James, what do you-"

"I don't know!" James snapped and stomped off in the direction of his bedroom.

Sirius looked down at Harry and pursed his lips. "Let's get out of here." He looked around sadly at the room.

"Where are we going to go?"

"We're going for ice cream." He raised his voice. "Oi! Prongs! Harry and I are going for ice cream!"

"Bring me back some lemon sherbet!" Dumbledore yelled from the kitchen. Harry was surprised. He'd never before known Dumbledore to do anything so normal as yell for ice cream.

"James?" Sirius asked.

"I don't want any," James bellowed down the stairs.

"We'll bring him some peppermint. That's his favorite," Sirius said softly. "Come on, Harry. We'll take the tube. I haven't done that in years."

Harry still hadn't got used to the way the house just appeared and disappeared when he stepped onto the walk. He wondered what would happen if he did a tap dance across the boundary. Would the house dance with him? Sirius didn't seem to notice, or else he was used to it. He followed Sirius, half a pace behind. Sirius plodded silently.

"What were you annoyed about? Back at the house?"

"Hmm?"

"Right before Dumbledore cast the spell, you made a noise. I heard you. It sort of distracted me. I wasn't really ready when Dumbledore cast the spell."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to distract you, Pronglet," Sirius replied. "Only I was… thinking, I suppose."

"Thinking about what?"

Sirius smiled softly. "My father tried to teach me Occlumency. It didn't go well. Regulus was quite adept at it, but I never was. I think he took it personally. Most of our lessons ended with him getting angry and giving me a beating. Like that was going to help me concentrate. In the end, it became a battle of wills. I refused to practice, and he refused to stop the lessons. Your dad said he couldn't imagine anyone wanting to get into my head anyway." Sirius let out a tiny chuckle, but his smile quickly faded. "Now I wish I'd learned. Maybe if I had, the imperius curse wouldn't have worked."

Sirius led them down some stairs and into the underground. Harry mostly liked the underground for the novelty of the thing. Muggle travel was terribly slow, but it was sort of peaceful and friendly, sharing a train with all these strangers. They had all come from different places and were all going to different places, but in this moment, their paths crossed. And at each stop, there was a mini ballet as everyone pushed for a seat.

A man in the corner wore a cape and a top hat. A trunk by his side declared him _Mervin the Magician! _Harry stared at him. He'd never seen a wizard who looked like that before.

"He's a muggle," Sirius whispered. "He's only pretending. It's all sleight-of-hand, what he does. Makes for a damn good show, though."

Mervin looked up and caught Harry staring. Harry smiled. Mervin gave a curt nod. Harry looked away. Sirius still watched Mervin. "Are you on your way to a show?"

Mervin nodded. "I'm a street performer, mostly. Do you like magic?"

"Oh yes," Sirius said with a barely suppressed smile. "I think it's brilliant."

"Perhaps you and your son would like to come to the show."

Sirius turned to Harry. "You want to go, kid?"

Harry nodded, feeling like an idiot even as he did it. Curiosity was a powerful force, and he remembered Scott Andrews having a magician at a birthday party once. Harry reckoned it was a real wizard and was confused as to why he could do magic in front of muggles when James was always saying he, James, couldn't.

Everyone in their class was invited to the party but Harry, and he had to watch out the window as they all gathered in Scott's yard and came away with hats made of balloons. Eventually James caught him watching and took him off to the zoo to get his mind off it, but the zoo was no substitute for a hat made of balloons.

Mervin stood suddenly after three stops and began struggling with his trunk. Sirius asked him if he'd like help. After a pause and a nod on Mervin's part, Sirius took the other end. He stepped off the train with a brief, "Come on, Pronglet," for Harry. Harry couldn't decide if he was amused or annoyed at being relegated to a follower when this was supposed to be his and Sirius' outing. Why did Sirius always have to make such a scene, anyway? Nonetheless, he trailed along behind. At least Sirius was always good for a spot of fun. At least he was. Before…

Mervin led them to a park and began yelling for people to step right up. Very few actually did until his show started.

"Are you sure it's not real magic?" Harry whispered as Mervin vanished flowers out of thin air.

"Quite," Sirius replied. "The trick is to look where he doesn't want you to. He moves things about while we're all distracted."

Harry tried to watch more closely, but he never could work out how the magician was doing things. By the time the show had ended, he was lost in the mystery of it all, trying to work out the method behind the magic.

"Shall we take a walk?" Sirius asked as Mervin packed his things and moved on.

Harry looked around and nodded. It was a lovely sort of day, with birds chattering at one another from the treetops, hot but still pleasant in the shade. Sirius and Harry walked along silently. The mark of true friends, Sirius thought to himself. Able to enjoy one another's company without feeling the need to fill the gaps.

The path wended its way around a small lake – more of a pond, really, and Sirius stopped to pick up a rock and plunk it into the water. It splashed some nearby ducks, who shook their feathers indignantly and went to investigate this new development. Harry wished he could be a duck, swimming along, not having to worry about anything more than rocks. He picked up a rock himself, a flat one, and skipped it over the water, away from the ducks. Seven. Not too bad.

"Sirius?" he said softly. "What was it like… being under the imperius curse for so long? I mean, Moody put me under it and everything, but I fought it, you know."

Sirius nodded, a queer expression crossing his face. "Yes, I know. And I did try to fight it."

"I know. I didn't mean to say… I was only curious."

A hint of a smile crossed Sirius' face, though his expression remained sad. "Have you ever been half asleep and you hear a noise or you have to pee or something, but you're just so sleepy, and being asleep feels so good, that you decide not to bother and you just roll over and go back to sleep?"

Harry gave a small nod and skipped another rock. He could tell the moment it left his hand that it had gone wonky. It landed with a tiny splash.

"That was pitiful, Harry," came Sirius' teasing voice. A moment later, the rock zoomed out of the water and back into Harry's hand, leaving a muddy imprint that he had to wipe on his trousers after he tried again and got it to make four hops.

"So, it was like being asleep?"

"Half asleep, perhaps, and not much caring what else happened so long as I got to stay asleep."

"I'm sorry that happened to you, and I'm sorry we didn't work it out sooner."

"Oi. You've got no need to apologize for that. Crouch chose me for a reason, because he knew you wouldn't suspect me or figure it out. Who goes around thinking about their friends being imperiused? We haven't had to worry about things like that since the war."

"Did that happen a lot during the war?"

It was Sirius' turn to give a grim nod. "You never knew who was doing what or why. Never knew who you could trust. Your best mate might turn on you at any moment. After it ended, we were all so relieved we wouldn't have seen an imperiused person coming if it had been tattooed across their forehead. We all let our guards down, and there was no reason to put it back up again. Until now."

"Do you think there will really be another war?"

Sirius was silent for so long that Harry began to wonder if he'd heard. He was about to open his mouth to ask the question again, when Sirius let out a pained, croaky. "Yes, I do."

Now Harry was silent. "And everyone will fight." By "everyone", Harry really only meant the people he loved. The Marauders and the Weasleys and his friends.

"Yes, we will fight."

Their faces raced through Harry's mind. His dad and Sirius and Remus and Ron and Hermione and Neville and Fred and George. The thought of them fighting for him, dying for him, it was very nearly unbearable. "Everyone dies," he said softly, without having made the decision to say it.

"Yes," Sirius replied. "Everyone does, but that doesn't mean anyone will."

"Cedric did."

"Cedric didn't know what he was up against. The people who are fighting Voldemort now, we do."

Anger clawed at Harry's belly. "Are you saying it was his fault?"

Confusion crossed Sirius' face. "No, of course not!"

"You think if we'd just been more prepared or something, it wouldn't have happened?"

"No, Harry, I-"

"Well, we were prepared! Our wands were out! Only it happened so fast and-"

"Harry, stop!" Sirius said firmly. Hearing Sirius raise his voice was such a surprise that Harry did stop. "That is not what I said. You and Cedric both did everything you could. Even a trained auror couldn't have done better than the two of you did in… that night. It was an ambush, and you had no way to stop it. I would never try to say it was his fault." Sirius paused a moment and looked at Harry pointedly. "And neither was it yours."

Harry's mouth worked a moment, as though he wished to retort but had nothing to say.

"Harry, it wasn't."

"I know," Harry replied, sounding thoroughly unconvinced.

"It wasn't."

"I know!" Annoyed this time.

"Do you?"

A shrug.

Sirius palmed the back of Harry's head and pulled him in. "You're a good person, you know that?" he whispered in Harry's ear. Harry nodded but squirmed away.

"Sirius, we're in public."

Sirius looked around. "And? There's no one here we know."

"Yeah, but people will stare."

Sirius shot him an incredulous look. "Why should we care?"

Harry only shrugged and picked up another rock. It skipped ten times.

Sirius was just about to comment when he heard James' voice calling his name. He pulled his mirror out of his pocket.

"Where are you two? I could have gone for ice cream eighteen times by now."

"We're at the park. Where are you?"

"In Grimmauld Place. Where would I be?"

"I don't know. I thought you may have gone to get your own ice cream instead of whinging at me about it."

"I wasn't… you didn't…" James sighed loudly. "When are you coming home?"

Sirius looked over at Harry, not at all fussed about his friend's annoyance. "What do you think Harry? We ready to go home?"

Harry shrugged. A downright cheerful response if his recent behavior was anything to go by.

"We'll come now. Harry's quite enthusiastic about it."

James shot a look that said he knew better and signed off with a terse, "See you soon, then."

Sirius put the mirror away and turned to Harry. "He used to have a sense of humor, your dad."

Harry's mouth became a line. "So, it's not just me who thinks he's acting differently?"

"No, it's not just you. Though if it's any consolation, he's only being this way because he's worried and he loves you. A lot of people would give their wand arm to be loved as deeply as he loves you."

"Why do you always take his side?"

"I don't. Have you any idea how often I tell him not to beat you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "He never beats me."

"And you've got me to thank for that! A little gratitude would be nice, you know. Kids these days, I swear. I ought to turn you into a ferret."

"What color?"

"Chartreuse."

"What color is chartreuse anyway?"

"I think it's a sort of yellow. Color of bogies perhaps."

"I wouldn't mind being the color of bogies. It would be a great conversation piece."

Sirius laughed and threw an arm around his godson. "Come on, Pronglet. Let's go get that ice cream."

When they returned to Grimmauld Place, James and Dumbledore were deep in conversation in the parlor. Sirius plopped their ice cream onto the table coffee table. "Lemon Sherbet for the gentleman and peppermint for the lady."

"Thanks," James said, completely ignoring Sirius' slight. It wasn't the first time Sirius had called him a girl.

Dumbledore took his ice cream and tucked in. James shook his head, as though he needed a moment to gather his wits and looked at his cup. He continued to stare at it while everyone else ate theirs, tracing designs in it with his plastic spoon.

"Are you going to eat it or sculpt it?" Sirius asked.

James looked up as though he'd just realized what he was doing. "Oh, yeah," he said, but he didn't eat. He only put down his spoon and stood to look out the window.

Harry stared at the goop in the cup. There was something almost tragic about melted ice cream. It could never go back to being whole again. So many wasted opportunities. A drop of the stuff slid off James' spoon and onto the coffee table. Harry put his own ice cream down. "If you didn't want the ice cream, you could have said something!"

James turned back. "Hrm?"

"We went out of our way to get you ice cream, and you're not even eating it! If you didn't want it, you should have said!"

"I did say, if I recall correctly," James snapped. "If you want it, you eat it."

Harry huffed loudly and slammed his own ice cream down onto the table. Even Dumbledore looked shocked and Harry leapt to his feet and stomped off, pounding up the stairs so emphatically that dust shook down from the rafters and Sirius had to shield his ice cream to keep it from being garnished with the stuff. He made a mental note to tell Kreacher to dust up there just as Harry's door slammed so loudly the whole house shook.

"Such a delightful boy," Sirius said with a wince.

James swore and kicked the chair he'd just vacated so hard it fell over. Without saying anything to Sirius or Dumbledore, he pounded up the stairs himself, causing a fresh round of dust to fall. He let himself into Harry's room and slammed the door behind him. Harry, who had been sitting on his bed, scrambled to his feet, confusion on his face.

"I don't care if you like me. I don't care if you hate me, but you will, by Merlin's beard, treat me with respect!" James yelled.

"You always say respect is earned, not demanded!" Harry yelled back. He regretted it as soon as he said it, even more so when a pained expression crossed his dad's face. He wasn't trying to hurt his father, only he was so angry he couldn't seem to stop the words.

"Harry, I've had about enough of this!"

"Just leave me alone, would you?"

"No, I will not! I am not your verbal punching bag, and I won't be any longer. You will adjust your attitude, or I will adjust it for you!"

Harry stood there angrily, his arms crossed over his chest, defiance in his tone. "What are you going to do? Spank me?"

James looked shocked for only a moment and then advanced on him menacingly.

Harry's hands went out in deference. "Now, now Dad. There's no need for violence."

James continued to come. Harry watched, mouth agape, frozen to the spot. Surely he wasn't really going to…

When James arrived, he grabbed Harry's shoulder and pulled him forward, into a strong embrace. Harry stood stiffly, waiting for him to let go, but he didn't, not until Harry relaxed and placed twitchy hands on James' back.

James pulled him to arms' length. "Have you any idea how much I love you?" he said firmly.

Harry nodded, guilt flooding him. "Sirius says a lot of people would give their wand arm to be loved so deeply."

James' hazel eyes were sharp, and they never left Harry's. Not until Harry's dropped to the floor. "I do respect you."

"Then you should do a better job of showing it," James snapped.

Harry's eyes popped up again, but he said nothing. James watched him. Harry looked away. James shifted his weight. Harry scratched at his hair. James stood immobile. Harry looked back.

"What?" he finally asked. He almost wished his dad would start shouting again. That was better than awkward silences. Those made Harry nervous. At least when he was being shouted at, he didn't have to wonder what his dad was thinking. Or if he was plotting something miserable.

"What?" James repeated. "What! I expect an answer, Harry James! Not just 'what'!"

Harry suddenly wished James hadn't seen fit to resume shouting.

"I don't know what you want me to say!" Harry shouted back. "I'm not a mind reader, you know!"

"Neither am I!"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I don't know what is going on in your head unless you tell me!"

"Why do you always need to know everything? Why can't you ever just leave me alone?"

"Because I'm your father! Fathers don't just leave their children alone!"

"You can't help me!" Harry screamed, his voice cracking. He stopped and tucked his head down, standing stiffly to blink away tears.

James was already opening his mouth to yell something back when his boy's word's sank in. The next question was low and gentle. "What do you mean, I can't help you?"

"Nothing," Harry snapped. "Never mind."

"Harry…"

"Just leave me alone!"

"I won't do that," James said softly. He looked at Harry. His kid was getting tall. James almost couldn't believe how tall. Another few inches and he'd be as tall as James. Maybe that was the problem. It was easy to be authoritative when you towered over a person. But Harry was nearing fifteen. They were starting a journey toward equality, and James wasn't sure how to navigate that. Or how far it was safe to err in either direction before they got there. Things were so much easier when Harry was five.

Harry stared for a moment and then sighed, plopping onto the bed. "I don't know."

James sat next to him and waited for Harry to continue. When he didn't, James nudged him with an elbow. "I'm going to need a bit more to go on than that."

"I don't know. I wish… I wish everyone would let me fight my own battles."

"What battles would those be?"

"Voldemort. He's back because of me."

"Actually, he's back because of Crouch."

"Yeah, well…" Harry shrugged.

"His being back makes the world a bit less… sure than it used to be," James said.

Harry nodded. "The war…"

"It's not quite a war yet. And if it becomes one, we'll be well prepared for it this time."

"But it's my war," Harry protested. "I don't want people fighting for me. I don't want people dying for me."

"Which is the difference between good and evil. Voldemort is happy to let people fight and die for him. He doesn't care about their lives. He'll even manipulate people into working for him, and if they die, he moves on to the next person. Everyone who's in the Order is in it because we want to be. And we're not fighting because of you, Harry. You forget that fighting _for_ the Order is also fighting _against_ Voldemort. That's why we're really fighting. We don't want to live in the sort of world he would create."

"But what if you die?"

"I won't die."

Harry's head jerked up, his gaze fierce.

"But what if you do?"

James sighed and threw an arm around Harry's shoulder. "If I die – which I won't – you'll live with Sirius, and he will adore you and probably feed you so many biscuits you'll have a heart attack at thirty."

"And what if he dies?"

"Then you'll live with Remus, who will probably never feed you biscuits."

"And what if-"

"Remus is too stubborn to die, Champ."

Harry shook his head. He was in no mood for jokes.

"Harry, I can't make promises to you about what will happen tomorrow, but I can tell you that the Order will do all we can to stop Voldemort _before_ more people die. We've got good odds. We have a spy in the Death Eater camp, and Dumbledore has a plan. In my experience, his plans have a high success rate."

"Wasn't he the one who planned for you and Mum to go into hiding?"

"Yes, and it would have been a brilliant plan if it weren't for Wormtail, and no one could have planned for _that_."

Harry grunted. He supposed he couldn't argue the point.

James kissed the top of Harry's head. "It's natural to be afraid of war, Harry. We tell all these stories of honor and glory on the battlefield, but we tell them mostly to lie to ourselves. There's nothing glorious about war. And there's nothing shameful about being afraid."

"Gryffindors are supposed to be brave."

"Bravery doesn't mean not being afraid, Harry. You're confusing bravery with stupidity. Bravery is doing what's right, despite being afraid."

Harry nodded slowly.

"We're going to win this war, Champ. I know we are."

Harry nodded again.

"And in the meantime, we're going to prepare, and you're going to keep a civil tongue."

Harry look up, the tips of his ears reddening. "I don't mean to. I just… get angry, I guess."

James smiled sadly. "I can relate. Only being angry is no excuse to treat the people around you badly. I believe we've discussed that before."

The reddening grew to Harry's face. "I'm grounded, aren't I?"

"Oh, yes. Quite a lot."

Harry flopped back against the bed and groaned. "Can't you let it go this once?"

"No. I've been letting quite a lot go lately. Your broomstick belongs to me for the next week."

"Dad! What am I supposed to do around here for a week without a broomstick?"

"Work on your summer reading, play chess with your father, unpack, talk to your father, pitch in with the cooking, listen to your father… and that's just off the top of my head."

"I'm sensing a pattern," Harry deadpanned.

"Oh, really?" James asked innocently. "What would that be?"

Harry grabbed a pillow and stuck it over his head. "Can I have a minute?"

James patted Harry's thigh and left with a soft, "I love you." He wandered downstairs to sit in the newly-righted armchair. Sirius was still there, stretched out on the sofa with his eyes closed. Dumbledore had gone. "I suppose you heard all that," James said tersely.

"People all the way in America heard it, mate," Sirius replied without opening his eyes. "You know, I've always wondered, is it weird for you when you use his middle name? I reckon if I had to use my own name I'd sort of feel like I was scolding myself." He opened his eyes long enough to wag his finger in his own face. "It's quite difficult to scold yourself, you know."

James gave a small snort. "Nah, it's not weird. Well, maybe a little. Usually I'm so caught in the moment I don't think about it. Harry James just rolls off the tongue, you know? That's why we picked it. It yells well. It's important to name your children things that yell well. Imagine how embarrassed I'd be if I gave him a silly name and then had to yell it in a shop."

"Planning ahead," Sirius agreed. "Smart move."

"It was Lily's idea, actually. She was always the brains behind our marriage."

"Yeah, I never did understand what she saw in you."

"I'm gorgeous," James replied, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"And blind," Sirius added. James threw a cushion at his head. Sirius caught it. "Thanks, mate. I was just thinking I could use a new pillow." James threw another cushion and got up to make something to eat. Spaghetti, he decided. And perhaps treacle tart. Harry's favorite. A peace offering. He'd run out of energy for hostilities and hoped Harry had as well.

He'd nearly finished when Harry appeared in the doorway. "Want to play chess?"

James smiled. "After dinner, I'd love to." Harry gave a brief nod and wandered stepped into the kitchen. "Need any help?"

"Sure, you can stir the sauce," James replied.

He reached out to squeeze Harry's shoulder. Harry gave a small smile and buried himself in spaghetti.


	7. Might and Memories

_This chapter is dedicated to pureflower, who rocks._

_Special thanks to my super-talented beta, ObsidianEmbrace_.

* * *

Laughter rang out through the low kitchen of Grimmauld Place. Only Dumbledore remained straight-faced as James wound a yarn.

"So Sirius says, 'Now, Minerva. May I call you Minerva?' And then she gave him a look that could have curdled milk, and he says, 'You prefer Minnie then?' That was when I began to fear for my life."

"Peter used to swear she was part dragon," Remus added with a grin.

"He may have been onto something," Sirius said ruefully. "I think my ears are still ringing from that lecture."

"What did you expect, calling her Minnie?" Mrs. Weasley asked, her eyes aglow with mirth.

"And don't forget the pornography," Fred added.

Mrs. Weasley's look of mirth changed quickly into one of warning as she turned on both twins. "Don't you two go getting any ideas."

George looked indignant. "What did _I_ do?"

"Guilt by association," Sirius said. "I can't tell you how many hours I spent in detention over things James did, and they all just assumed I must have been in on it."

"That cut both ways, you know. And for the record, Fred, the painting was only _slightly_ pornographic. We didn't show anyone's naughty bits. Just Ravenclaw's bosoms-"

"And what beautiful bosoms they were," Sirius interrupted to say.

"-and Slytherin's bum."

"Which was not beautiful at all," Sirius amended.

"Sagged a bit," Remus added with a wince.

"And you painted it on the ceiling of the Entrance Hall?" George asked. "Are you sure you're not making this up?"

"Oh, quite sure." James said.

"I can testify," Kingsley Shacklebolt added, laughing. "The whole school was sure you'd be expelled."

"Nah," James said, running a hand coolly through his hair. "Actually, she complimented us on the amount of planning that had to go into it."

"That's not exactly true," Remus corrected. "What she said was that if we applied that amount of planning and dedication to our schoolwork, there would be no end to what we could accomplish."

"Po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe," James said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Snape was the only one not laughing, burying his waspish expression in his dinner plate. Over the last few weeks, Harry had grown used to the revolving door of Order members and learned many of their names. Sirius and James especially seemed to revel in the company, but Harry preferred the evenings – when it was just the three of them. Those evenings had become few and far between, and Harry ached for them. When the others came, he felt exposed and on display. Although James swore they weren't, Harry couldn't shake the feeling they were all studying him.

Tonight, everyone was there, as there was to be a meeting after dinner. Harry was not allowed to attend, a slight he thought highly unfair considering that out of everyone present, he'd directly confronted Voldemort more than any of them save Dumbledore and his father. Some of them, like the Weasleys and Tonks and Mundungus Fletcher, had never even seen him at all. James was sympathetic to his plight, and asserted that he agreed but that Dumbledore was in charge of the meetings, and that he would not be swayed. Harry was too young, he said.

"I'm not too young for Voldemort to come after," Harry had muttered.

James and Sirius promised to tell Harry what happened in the meeting as soon as it was over, but Harry felt underappreciated all the same. It was not a happy feeling, and did nothing for his mood. He'd been trying not to let his temper get the better of him over the past few days – ever since he and his Dad had a shouting match in his bedroom and he really realized for the first time that this was difficult for everyone else, too.

Some days he had more success than others. So far, today had not been a particularly good one. He'd yelled at Sirius, and Ron, and Mrs. Weasley, who looked very much like she was going to yell back until Mr. Weasley intervened. He'd yelled at Hermione, and even at Ginny, who did yell back, which made him angrier at first, but now he was drowning in guilt, even though she'd smiled at him twice across the table. She was smiling at him now. For the first time, instead of burying himself in his mashed potatoes, he gave a small smile back. She seemed to relax a little, and until that moment he hadn't realized she was tense.

"I'm sorry I shouted at you," he told her after they'd all been shooed out of the dining room and the Order Meeting had begun.

She nodded. "Me, too."

"Sorry I shouted at you, or sorry you shouted at me?"

A shrug. "Both, I guess."

The question on Harry's lips about what she meant by that was cut off a moment later by the arrival of Fred and George. They had various eavesdropping methods they wished to try, and would need everyone's help. Even Hermione didn't scold too much. Harry reckoned she wanted to know what was going on as much as the rest of them. She couldn't stand not knowing everything.

In the end, they discovered that the best method was one of Fred and George's own inventions: extendable ears. They had only two, but promised more were in production, so the six of them took turns listening and telling the others what they heard in whispers.

Much of what was said, they didn't understand. There was something about a weapon, something about the Ministry, something about the plan, and something about spying. Snape gave a report about the new information he had, and James informed him shortly that he wasn't telling anything new, and what kind of spy was he, anyway, if he couldn't at least get them intelligence that the Aurors didn't already know?

For a moment, it sounded like there might be a row, but Sirius and Dumbledore calmed things down, namely by telling both of them to sit down and shut up.

Harry was tiring of it all, knowing as he did that James and Sirius were planning to fill him in, but he found he didn't feel like being alone. Things were far too quiet in Grimmauld Place. At home, things were rarely quiet. Even on lazy afternoons when James and Harry entertained themselves in separate rooms, there were the shouts from children playing outside, the whisper of the breeze, the titters of birds. And at Hogwarts, of course, things were never quiet. Harry was always surrounded by a buzz of student activity, even when he didn't want to be. Here, there was nothing. The outside world was locked away. Something to be feared and hated rather than rejoiced.

The knock at the door was loud and booming, cascading down the hallway so that Harry and his friends jumped. Harry looked at Ginny, who looked at Ron, who looked at Fred and George, who looked at Hermione.

The door opened, and they all stood stupidly. For a moment, Harry was afraid. It could be anybody coming in, but then he remembered the Fidelius charm. No one could be here unless Dumbledore had personally invited them. He shook his head, hoping to shake away the adrenaline rush with it. He wasn't typically a worrier. His style, like his father's, was to dive in feet first and trust his wits to see him through. Planning was futile when it came to his particular brand of demon, anyway.

The light from the hallway shone out into the balmy night and lit the faces of the newcomers. Harry recognized them immediately.

Amos and Melinda Diggory.

Harry felt a tug in his gut like he'd been punched. His face burned red-hot and all the guilt he'd been trying to push away the past few weeks rushed right back into his heart, causing it to drop down and settle somewhere in the vicinity of his knees. A movement caught his eye. Fred and George rushing to put the extendable ears away before the Diggorys saw and told Mrs. Weasley.

"Mr. and Mrs. Diggory, I… we… I…"

Mrs. Diggory smiled a warm, motherly sort of smile, warmer somehow for the pain behind it. "It's good to see you, Harry," she said, in a voice strong and deep with emotion, as though she had lived a lifetime since he last heard her speak. He felt a sudden urge to cry, but blinked rapidly to hold the tears at bay. Ginny slipped a hand into his, which only made the desire that much stronger.

"James invited us," Mr. Diggory added. "He said there is a resistance… that we can fight You-Know-Who… get justice… for Cedric." His voice faded to a whisper at the end, as though he still couldn't quite bring himself to say his son's name.

"They're in there," Ron said, and pointed to the closed kitchen door.

Hermione strode forward with her usual purpose and knocked on the door. Mr. Weasley came to answer, and shut the door tensely behind him. "Is everything all right out here?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Diggory are here," Ron told him, pointing and gawking as though they were carnies.

Mr. Weasley turned and saw them for the first time. His face lit up, "Oh, hello! James said you might come! Please, come in. I'll introduce you to everyone." He ushered them into the kitchen, and once again the door closed.

Everyone except Hermione turned to look at Harry. "Are you all right?" Ron asked, his lip curled in confusion. Hermione turned to him with a look of disgust.

"Fine," Harry muttered. He turned to stomp up the stairs and was nearly to his room when he heard Hermione say, "Honestly, Ronald!"

Ginny followed Harry, padding silently behind with womanly intuition. He sat on his bed with watery eyes, and she sat next to him, intertwining her arm with his. When he was sure he had defeated teardrops, Harry apologized softly.

"What for?" Ginny asked, her voice low and soothing. Harry loved her voice. It always made him feel better about absolutely everything.

He shrugged. "We should probably go back downstairs."

Ginny's eyes shone. "Why?"

"Hermione and your brothers will wonder where we are."

"They know where we are. They saw us come up here."

"Fred and George will probably tell everybody we're snogging."

Ginny laughed. "We could always prove them right."

Harry blushed, wondering why, after a year of dating and a lifetime of friendship, he still felt embarrassed around her at times like this. He didn't have much time, though. A moment later, all his attention was on the smell of her hair and the touch of her breath and that wonderful full feeling he felt whenever she was close.

"Well," he heard himself whisper, "if they're going to tell everybody anyway…"

* * *

Sirius smiled a smile that was clearly meant to put Harry at ease, but didn't. "It'll be fine. Dumbledore thinks the last time was a fluke."

"Then why won't he teach me anymore?" Harry asked in his best a-ha voice.

"That is a complicated question."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I don't know the answer."

"Don't know it or won't share it?" came Harry's pointed response.

"Don't know it. He made some hints, none of which made much sense. He thinks Voldemort can sense his presence through you, because he was the one Voldemort always hated most."

"And yet I'm the one he keeps trying to maim."

"Oh, I'm sure he'd maim Dumbledore if given half a chance."

Harry only shrugged at that. Most of his confidence at the moment balanced on the thin line of his faith in Dumbledore's invincibility, and the perceived invincibility of those under his wing. People like Sirius and Remus. People like Harry himself. People like James.

"Don't worry about me," Sirius said after a moment's silence. "I'll be fine."

"I think I'd rather take my chances with Snape."

If Sirius was shocked, he didn't show it. James and Sirius had shared with him this morning over breakfast that in last night's meeting, after Amos and Melinda informed the Order that the kids were listening at the door and after imperturbable charms were set that kept even the extendable ears out, Dumbledore had said he would not teach Harry Occlumency anymore, and that he wanted Snape to take over. James had made a bit of a scene and insisted Sirius do it instead, even though Sirius said he was pants at Occlumency.

"At least teach him the basics," James had replied. "You can do that, right? Then if he needs more practice, he can work with Snape, but I won't leave him alone with Snape unable to defend himself."

"What do you think I would do to him?" Snape had asked, his voice full of the acid he always seemed to save for James.

"Shall I list all the things you've already done to him?" James had retorted, at which point Sirius hastily agreed to take over the lessons.

"I don't blame you wanting an excuse to hex him," Sirius said with a small smile. "But the hell he'd put you through after wouldn't be worth it."

Harry shrugged. There was no arguing with that. "He's going to put me through hell anyway. I may as well get some joy out of it." Ginny's logic, not his own, but still bleak and unbreakable

"Your father used to say that to McGonagall when she asked why we could never just leave him alone."

"True is true," Harry grumbled.

Sirius chuckled. "Well said, and now, I think it's time we got to work. I'd hate to have to explain to everyone that I let you waste the entire lesson."

"You wouldn't have to tell them. You could tell them the lesson was smashing."

"You need these lessons, kid. Now come on. Empty your thoughts."

Harry tried to think of Ginny, like he had last time, or of swimming in the frigid mountain lake where he and his dad used to camp when he was small, but Sirius' spell hit him and brought him almost immediately away from all that and into the whirlwind of thoughts and images and memories that he couldn't control.

The dizzying spectacle stopped almost quickly as it had begun, and Harry opened his eyes to find Sirius looking at him, appearing unhurt.

"That was good."

"It was awful!" Harry snapped. "I couldn't keep you out!"

"You're not supposed to be able to keep me out on a second try, Pronglet. Allow yourself a bit of grace."

Harry didn't answer, and so Sirius asked, "Ready to try it again?"

Harry nodded, his jaw set in a line of determination. It went no better the second time, but this time it was Harry who tossed out a terse, "Again".

This time, Harry managed to find some clarity somewhere in the chaos. He focused on one of the wisps of memory, managing to stop it as it blipped by and concentrate on it. It wasn't any sort of important memory. A dinner he never would have thought of again if it hadn't happened across his consciousness in this way.

The image disappeared quickly, leaving Harry confused until Sirius' voice broke into his reverie. "That was really good, Harry! That's a great start!"

Harry made a face that showed quite clearly how undeserving he felt of the praise. "I couldn't keep you out."

"But you figured out how to stop me. That's the first step."

"A baby step," Harry grumbled.

"Baby steps still get you that much closer to your goal. You've got to stop being so hard on yourself."

"You say that, but you haven't got Voldemort inside your head taking over and hexing people." The moment he said it, Harry realized that Sirius _had _ had Voldemort in his head. Or Death Eaters, rather, which was the next best thing. "Sorry," he muttered.

Sirius shook his head. "You don't have to apologize, kid. Occlumency lessons always used to put me in a bad mood, too. It's exhausting, and humiliating, not to even mention the invasion of privacy. You have all my sympathy. But my sympathy doesn't help much, and Voldemort doesn't care about other people's privacy, so we're trying again."

This time, Sirius gave no more warning before saying the spell, and then Harry wasn't quite sure what happened next.

Harry was in the Gryffindor common room, but the furniture was all wrong. A moment later, he realized why. Lily and the four Marauders sat at a round table that wasn't there anymore.

They were doing homework, but James clearly wasn't focusing on it. Every few seconds, he would look up to make kissy faces at Lily.

"Prongs, if you don't stop that, I'm going to kill you, just to put you out of your misery."

James tore his eyes away from Lily's long enough to scowl at Sirius. "Who said anything about being miserable?" He reached out to Lily and ran a finger between her breasts. "No man has ever been happier than I am right now."

Lily blushed deep scarlet, her skin clashing brilliantly with her hair. "James!" she scolded in a whisper as she pushed his hand away. "People are looking!"

"I can't help it," James replied with a shrug. "You have such perfect breasts." He ran his finger between them again, caressing one through her robes. Her blushing deepened, and she put a hand on his. "I don't think anyone in the world has ever had such perfect breasts. Padfoot, don't you think she has perfect breasts?"

Sirius looked up from his essay and studied them. "Yes, perfect," he agreed, his gaze lingering.

"Okay, stop looking at them," James ordered.

Sirius went back to his homework. "You're the one who told me to look."

"You really should have seen that one coming," Remus said.

"Okay, can we _please_ stop talking about my breasts?"

"Oh, I don't think that will be possible. I could spend the rest of my life talking about nothing else besides your breasts. Honestly, I don't understand how you girls function. If I had breasts I'd play with them all the time. How do you ever get anything done?"

"You get used to it," Lily said in a long-suffering tone. "I mean, if I suddenly grew a knob, it would probably keep me entertained for quite some time, but you all don't go around playing with yours all the time."

"Sure we do," James corrected.

"I'm playing with mine right now," Sirius added, not looking up from his essay.

"No you're not!" Lily protested. "I can see both your hands!"

"Anyone who needs his hands to play with his knob is an amateur," Sirius said, judgment in his tone.

Lily turned, if possible, an even brighter shade of red.

The scene changed. Harry was in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, being swept along with the crowd as they left what was clearly a feast. He spotted Remus, his prefect badge gleaming on his chest as he tried to herd first years toward the exit. The start of term feast, Harry reckoned. It hadn't changed.

Behind him, he heard his father's voice say how glad he was he didn't have to bother with first years, and Harry turned to see the sixteen year old versions of James, Sirius, and Peter standing there, watching Remus with amusement on their faces. When they started toward the dormitory, Harry followed, not sure what else to do. When this was over, he was sure he'd find that in the outside world only seconds had passed, but time in memories was always out of joint.

Sirius was almost to the staircase when someone pushed him from behind. He whipped around, ready for a fight, and saw Regulus standing there, his face a mask of fury. Harry recognized him from old pictures.

"What the hell, Reg?" Sirius yelled, sounding more surprised than angry.

"What the hell yourself!" Regulus shouted back.

"Why are you shouting at me?" Sirius shouted.

"Why did you leave me? How could you just leave?"

"I didn't do it by choice," Sirius said softly, emphatically. Honesty and regret dripped from his very pores. "Mother made me."

"Shut up!" Regulus cried. "You always do that! Stop trying to blame Mother for this! You always have an excuse for why it isn't your fault, or why it's okay to act the way you do. We were your family, Sirius!" Regulus was nearly screaming now, his eyes wide with uncontrolled rage. "_You_ turned your back on _us_! On me, Sirius! You've no right to complain about the consequences now! You said you'd never leave me! I'm your brother! Your brother, Sirius! How could you just leave?"

A few heated words later, and they were locked in a tussle, fists and insults flying at random. By the time McGonagall and three other teachers pulled them apart, Regulus was bleeding from a cut lip. He held a hand to it and inspected the blood on his fingers. He let out a small humorless laugh. "I always thought I was the end of your selfishness, _brother_," he said acidly. "I always thought you'd never hurt me. Stupid of me, wasn't it?"

"Stop it!" McGonagall scolded. "Stop it this instant! You should be ashamed of yourselves! You're brothers!"

Regulus narrowed his eyes and jerked himself out of another professor's grasp. "He's not my brother," the boy snarled. "He's no brother of mine." And with that, Regulus turned toward the dungeons and sloped away, disappearing into the crowd.

Then it all disappeared once more as Grimmauld Place and Sirius' face swam into focus.

"I think that's enough for today," Sirius stuttered out. He held a necklace in one hand that Harry was sure he'd never seen before, and had the other hand pressed gingerly against his thigh.

"Sirius, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"I know you didn't," Sirius said quickly. "Don't worry about it. It's one of the hazards of teaching Occlumency. You wouldn't believe some of the dirt I got on my father when he was trying to teach me." He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. They were clouded with pain. "That's one of the reasons it's so important in this subject that we trust one another."

Harry nodded, still sure he ought to be saying something. "Are you hurt?" It was clear he was. "Did I hex you?"

"No, I banged my leg on the table. I'll probably have a bruise, but it'll heal. We'll pick back up again tomorrow, okay? Now get your little arse outside. It's far too lovely a day to waste." Harry hesitated, but Sirius added, "Go on!" in a voice that was not to be disobeyed. Harry was sort of glad for it. His friends were all outside, enjoying their lives while Harry was cooped up in here. He longed to tell them what he'd found out at breakfast this morning, about the meeting last night and the prophecy and Voldemort's fingers spreading over the country like shadows at dusk. But he'd been made to promise not to tell, and so he didn't. Instead, he joined them at the edge of the wards and watched the hazy images of the world moving on just a footstep away and wondered what it would feel like to step through and be free.

* * *

Sirius fingered the locket as he sat on Reg's bed. The room was how he'd left it, lined in green and silver, with pictures of him and his friends on the wall, laughing, joking, not yet knowing that they'd nearly all die young, not knowing that they were already living out their final years.

A few of young Snape were here and about, and Sirius remembered with a tug the way Reg had sought him out the very first night he came to Hogwarts. Sometimes Sirius thought he did it out of spite, just to goad his brother, but the truth was that Reg hadn't grown spiteful yet. Not in his first year.

Then Sirius thought of the first time he saw him after he left home, after the Welcome Feast at Hogwarts. The memory that had been so ungraciously thrust upon him today. He was embarrassed that Harry had seen it, even though it wasn't his fault. Now he couldn't get it out of his mind, how they screamed at one another, right there in front of the whole school. How they threw angry words of the sort that you only throw at people you love, and then angry punches of the sort that you only throw at people you hate. And when McGonagall pulled them apart and said, "Stop it! You're brothers!" Regulus' face twisted into their mother's for a moment, and he spat out, "He's not my brother. He's no brother of mine."

He thought about the last time he saw his brother, only a few months before he died. They met by chance, the sort of meeting of Order Members and Death Eaters that nearly always resulted in bloodshed. James was there also, just the two of them against four Death Eaters. Regulus saved James' and Sirius' lives that night by using a killing curse on the final Death Eater, the one who had them paralyzed and laughed as he used the Cruciatus on them in turns, laughed at James and Sirius as they writhed, helpless, on the ground. Laughed as they each had to watch their best friend being tortured to death.

He wondered if Reg had already decided to leave the ranks of the Death Eaters by then, or if the final plea Sirius made when he came to help him to his feet and ask if he was all right was what finally convinced him. If so, Sirius had killed him as surely as if he'd shot the curse himself. They smiled and hugged before they parted, and they each said I love you. Sirius was always thankful for that, that their final words were words of kindness and not anger. How many people could say that their final words to someone were, "I love you"? So much power in those words. So much vulnerability in those words.

Sirius slipped his fingernail between the edges of the locket and tried to pry it open, even though he knew it wouldn't go. When he and his friends were cleaning out the house, tossing dusty, ancient, priceless artifacts into rubbish bins with reckless abandon, they came across it. Kreacher, still locked in grief for the family he'd lost screamed that it belonged to Master Regulus and that Master Sirius couldn't throw it away.

James said he didn't trust a locket that wouldn't open and that, judging by the sorts of things they'd found in the rest of the house, something awful was probably inside. Sirius nodded his agreement and pretended to throw it away, but slipped it into his pocket instead. He couldn't bring himself to part with something that had been his brother's. After everything, he still needed Regulus.

There was something odd about the locket, he knew, and once or twice he'd considered asking Dumbledore if he had any thoughts. He used to keep it in his own house, but Harry found it once, when he only a toddler and living there with his father. He was mesmerized by it. He threw a wobbly when Sirius wouldn't let him put it on, but when Sirius gave in he swore he saw a change come over the boy's face, and a moment later Harry began to cry in pain and rubbed his scar. James dismissed it as coincidence when Sirius told him, wracked with worry over possibly having exposed Harry to a dark object. Harry never could take his eyes off it whenever it was nearby, though, and as Sirius still wasn't ready to give it up, he brought it here for safekeeping.

James probably didn't even remember the locket. Harry certainly didn't. Only Sirius slipped up here to look at it and wonder at its contents. It seemed important now, in so many ways. Important because it might truly be a dark object and therefore might matter – as the mundane so often did – in the high matters of the world. Important because, whatever it was, Harry had once thought it important enough to throw a tantrum for and Sirius trusted that kid's instincts more than he did his own. Important also because, whatever was inside, Regulus must have put it there.

Even now, Sirius wasn't prepared to give it up, but it wasn't coincidence that he'd had it in his pocket today during Harry's Occlumency lesson, or that it had burned so hot it formed a blister on his thigh when Harry's consciousness entered his own. Sirius put it back in the drawer with Reg's paints and sketchbook, nestled under the art kit he'd sent him for Christmas his first year at Hogwarts, but that his parents had claimed as their own. Sirius never was certain who Regulus believed it to be from.

The next Order meeting was in two days, and Sirius would finally show the thing to Dumbledore. Maybe he'd actually know what it was. Sirius hoped he would say it was nothing, so he could nestle it back in its drawer and keep hold of this tiny bit of his brother that was still in the world.


	8. Toil and Trouble

Beta: LauraWinter

The trial loomed large on everyone's mind the morning of Harry's fifteenth birthday. At breakfast, Harry picked at his food, moving it around on the plate as much as eating it. James wasn't doing much better with his. While the rational part of his brain said all this was only a technicality, and that Harry was sure to be let off seeing as there actually had been dementors, there was a part of him that couldn't help but fret. The ministry was no stranger to miscarriages of justice, unfortunately, and all his instincts screamed at him to find some way to make this all go away so Harry would be safe. It killed him to see his child under so much strain and know he was helpless to fix it.

It couldn't be said that he hadn't tried. Kingsley Shacklebolt had personally interviewed Harry and determined he was telling the truth. Mad-Eye Moody was going to come and testify that Harry was "a decent person," which was high praise indeed coming from him. Dumbledore was planning to come and most likely shred mile-wide holes in the case against Harry, and Sirius was going to pull whatever strings he could, though he'd been trying all summer to get the case dismissed out of hand and hadn't succeeded any better than James had when he tried the same thing, back when Harry blew up Vernon.

"Try not to worry," James said, watching Harry sympathetically.

Harry looked up and ran a hand through his hair. He'd combed it so many times this morning that his scalp still tingled, and yet it looked every bit as shaggy and unkempt as ever. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one in danger of being expelled."

"You won't be expelled," Sirius said. "Mafalda Hopkirk is fair. She'll hear you out, and when she finds out there were dementors, she'll let it go."

"What if she doesn't believe me?"

"Why wouldn't she believe you?"

"Because dementors don't generally just escape?"

"Not generally, but it isn't unheard of. If she doesn't believe you, we'll deal with that then. There's no reason to make trouble where none exists yet."

Harry shrugged and went back to picking at his eggs and toast. Sirius shrugged at James, who smiled gratefully, even though Sirius hadn't had any more luck than James had at trying to get Harry to stop destroying himself with worry. Just knowing Sirius had Harry's back made James feel better about things. He never would have admitted it, but Sirius had quite a lot of sway in ministry matters, being the head of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

An owl flew across the table and dropped a letter atop Sirius' plate. "No aim, must be a ministry owl," Sirius muttered as he pulled the deposited envelope out of his eggs and set about wiping off the yolk. James had long since stopped wondering how owls made it into Grimmauld Place. Sirius himself had said he had no idea, and he had asked his father once when he was eight, but he didn't know either. "Owls always find a way," he had said with a shrug. That was the first time Sirius ever heard his father say he didn't know something, which rather shattered the childhood illusion of the man's infallibility.

Sirius read the letter and swore loudly. James startled and spilled milk down his robes. He ignored it. "What is it?"

"They're trying Harry in front of the whole damn Wizengamot!"

"What?" James scoffed.

"What!" Harry cried.

"Read it for yourself." Sirius thrust the letter over.

James read out loud.

_Dear Master Black,  
Your presence is requested at eight o'clock this morning, 31 July, for an emergency session of the Wizengamot. The Wizengamot will be hearing the case of Mr. Harry James Potter, 15, who stands accused of violating the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction for Underage Sorcery and the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy. The ministry extends its sincerest apologies for the short notice of this letter, but we have full confidence that you will make every effort to be present._

_Sincerely,  
Dolores Jane Umbridge,  
Senior Undersecretary to the Minister_

"Dolores Umbridge?" Remus said with a scowl. "Maudite vache." Harry gawked. When Remus slipped into French, things were serious indeed.

"Maudite what?" James asked.

Sirius translated absently. "Cow. He called her a cow." He reached for the letter and scanned it quickly. "This makes no sense. They never convene the Wizengamot for something so simple as underage magic."

"What does that mean?" Harry asked, his voice laced with worry.

"I'm not sure," Sirius replied. "But for now it means you have forty-five minutes to get to the ministry, so you'd better eat your eggs quickly."

Harry pushed them away. His face was white and pinched. "I'm done."

"Why would they do this?" James asked.

Sirius shrugged. "No idea."

"Because of Umbridge," Remus snapped angrily. "That woman is ruthless."

"Who's Umbridge?" Harry asked.

Sirius smiled darkly and brandished the letter. "Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. She's got the sweetest smile you ever saw, and she keeps smiling even while she's stabbing you in the dark. She climbed to power on the backs of people she betrayed or sold down the river, and now that she's got it, she's more than happy to abuse it if it means she gets more. She's no one to be trifled with, but it's not within her power to convene the Wizengamot. That order must have come from Fudge. No doubt he's trying to keep Dumbledore out of it, now that he's been removed as Chief Warlock."

"Who's it now?"

"No one. We haven't elected a new one yet."

"But what does it mean for me?" Harry asked.

"I don't know, Harry. I'll see what I can find out. I have to go soon, apparently."

"Why hasn't Harry received a letter telling him about this yet?" Remus asked.

Harry was beyond caring about that.

Sirius sighed. "I've no idea. I suppose I should go get ready." He left the kitchen without ceremony. The others could hear him stomping up the stairs.

Harry continued to pick at his eggs with the tip of his fork, to give his hands something to do as much as anything. "Try to eat something, champ," James said softly.

Harry looked at his dad's plate. "You haven't."

James looked down. "No, I suppose I haven't. I'm not particularly hungry, either."

"It's my birthday," Harry whinged, sounding much younger than fifteen.

"I know. We'll get this all settled, and tonight we'll have a real celebration."

Harry didn't feel like celebrating. He only felt like crawling into a hole. He fingered his wand in his pocket, trying not to imagine it being snapped. He comforted himself with the thought that he'd still be able to do magic. His mother's wand was around somewhere. He could find it and use it. It would have at least some affinity for him. It wouldn't be the same as his wand – nothing would – but it wouldn't be as bad as having no wand. Of course, he'd have to hide it from the Ministry, but that shouldn't be too hard, especially if he stayed here in Grimmauld Place. Security was so tight here; the Ministry would never find him. He could get himself a muggle job and marry Ginny and bring her here to stay. She seemed to like it here so far. Harry had been a bit worried about what she'd think when he moved here, but she said she liked a house with secrets.

Harry pushed his plate further away. "I said I'm done."

Remus stabbed angrily at the last vestiges of his eggs. "That woman!"

Harry frowned. "I thought this was just a minor formality. Why are they trying me in front of the whole Wizengamot?"

"Politics."

"Politics?"

"Yes, politics. Fudge isn't happy with you right now because you're making his job difficult. My guess is that he was hoping you won't fare well in front of the Wizengamot. But you will, so there's nothing to worry about. Sirius will have your back, and his influence isn't small. Dumbledore will be there as well, and Kingsley and Moody." James went silent for a moment, and then sent out three patronuses.

"What was that for?"

"Making sure they all know about the time change just in case it was an attempt to get your witnesses to no-show."

"Can they do that? Just not tell them?"

Remus was the one to reply, darkly. "They're the ministry. They can do whatever they want. As long as they control the Daily Prophet, which they do, they can spin anything in the world any way they want to and have us all believing things that aren't even true."

Harry was about to ask, "Like what?" except that he realized he didn't need to ask. He'd already seen the way the Prophet was refusing to report Voldemort's return, and trying to discredit Harry and the Order. It was all a rotten mess.

"Umbridge is the one who got those laws passed last year about werewolves. It's been practically impossible for any of us to find work, which is making it nearly impossible now for me to convince any werewolves that they ought to fight for us. Keep a people down long enough and eventually they'll decide to team up with anybody, no matter how evil, just to get a little change."

Harry nodded. That made sense, he supposed. Desperation could lead people to do some nasty things.

"I'll never understand how an undersecretary got so much power to begin with. Sometimes I think Fudge is just a puppet, and she's really the one running the show."

"How many undersecretaries does Fudge have?" asked Harry.

"Three," James replied. "He used to have four, but he had to sack one last month. Budget cuts. Word around the office is that the woman who got sacked is Umbridge's cousin or something, so she's out for blood even more than usual."

"Can't he just get the money from the Malfoys?"

"No. They're not too happy with Fudge right now. They think he should be doing a better job of shutting you up."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you. Have you any idea how inconvenient it is for Voldemort that you came back and immediately told Dumbledore and the ministry and aurors and everybody that he's back? The fewer people believe it, the better off he is. His people are everywhere, trying to keep you and this story quiet."

"That Umbridge woman, is she a Death Eater?"

James shook his head. "Not that we know of. She's not in this for him. She's in it for herself, and for Fudge. She practically worships him, and once he goes his successors might not decide to keep her. She'll do anything she thinks she has to to keep him in power. She's a nasty piece of work, but she's not a Death Eater."

"The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters," Sirius said softly. He'd arrived back so silently Harry never even knew he was there. "Might be simpler if it were. There are plenty of nasty people who aren't Death Eaters, and probably even a few Death Eaters who truly believe Voldemort will be good for society and that they're doing the right thing. I think Regulus believed that, at least at first." He sighed. "Most people do what they think is right, Pronglet. The problem is that none of us can ever agree on what right is, and we're not terribly good at compromise, or even trying to understand where anyone else is coming from, so we all just end up doing our own idea of what the right thing is and maybe pausing every once and again to scream at everyone else for doing it wrong. This is the basis of all politics."

James gave a small smile as he looked at Sirius. "I will never understand how you manage to actually look good in that outfit."

Harry turned to see that Sirius was now in horrid plum-colored robes made of crushed velvet, and a hat that would have looked ridiculous even as part of a Halloween costume. Sirius put his hands on his hips and stood proudly, as though convinced he cut a dashing figure. Then a smile broke his face and he deflated. "I've got to go. See you all soon." He went over to Harry and kissed the top of his head. "Try not to worry. It'll all work out. You'll see." Then with a swish of velvet and a roar of the fireplace he was gone. Only the faint smell of firewood and the empty chair next to a plate of half-eaten eggs remained. The kitchen seemed suddenly lonelier. No one else knew what to say.

Harry had nothing left to do but wait. They tried to play cards, but no one could concentrate. The seconds seemed to tick by too slowly as he waited for time to go. Finally, fifteen minutes later, James said, "I can't take this anymore. I think I'd rather wait there than here. What do you say, Harry?"

Harry croaked out, "okay," and stood. He paused. "Can I leave my wand here? Just in case?"

James shook his head. "They'll have to examine it when you arrive. It's procedure."

"But what if they snap it?"

"They won't. I promise." James grimaced. He shouldn't have said that. He couldn't promise something like that. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry tried to smile, but it didn't work. Remus went through the floo first. Then Harry. Then James.

"Are you testifying for me?" Harry asked softly while they were waiting for James.

Remus shook his head. "I'd be glad to, but it would probably do more harm than good, especially if Umbridge is running the show." He shook his head again. "Maudite vache."

"I wish Dad could testify."

"Me, too." And then James was there, leading them through the hustle and bustle of the ministry hall. At a desk at the end of the hall, a ministry witch sat doing about a million things at once.

"Good morning, Gwendolyn," James said. She beamed at him, a smile far too large for a simple greeting.

"Good morning, James!"

"My son Harry's here," James said, motioning Harry forward.

Gwendolyn frowned. "Yes, of course. The hearing. Nasty business." She looked around to be sure no one was listening and whispered, "I believe you, about You-Know-Who."

"Thanks," Harry replied glumly.

Gwendolyn went back to all business. "I'll need your wand, please." Haltingly, Harry handed it over. The inspection went quickly. She set the wand on a scale and a slip of paper popped out telling all about Harry's wand. She handed it back with an encouraging smile. "Everything seems in order."

A moment later, Harry was sporting a button that told the world he was a visitor there for a disciplinary hearing. He kept trying to hide it as she walked.

"Gwendolyn's still mad for you, I see," Remus teased.

James shrugged. "I can't help it. I don't lead her on. I swear."

"She fancies you?" Harry asked.

James nodded. "We were in school together. She's a year younger than I am. We actually dated for about ten minutes in my fifth year, but it didn't work out. She's not very bright, I'm afraid. That's why we haven't recruited her for the order, even though she believes You-Know-Who is back."

Harry looked back at her. She smiled at him. He smiled back. "I like her."

"That's not surprising. She's very likeable. I like her fine. I just don't want to date her. Here we are."

They stepped into a lift and rode deep underground. There was movement all about, but Harry was too lost in his own thoughts to pay much attention. At five minutes until the trial was to begin, a memo finally found Harry, informing him of the time change.

James muttered under his breath. "They were probably trying to make you late, or keep you from showing up at all." Harry took in that information silently. He wasn't sure what to think it. He wasn't sure what to think about any of this.

At eight o'clock on the dot, the large chamber door Harry had been staring at for the last twenty minutes opened, and Harry went in, along with his three witnesses and his dad and Remus. Witches and wizards, about fifty of them, in plum robes like Sirius', sat in rows above the circular area where the accused had to stand. Several of them waved at James when he came in. He was on the Wizengamot himself, but had had to recuse himself today. Fudge sat in the middle of the front row. Sirius was to his right, a few seats down. He gave Harry a wink.

"Mr. Potter," a sweet, girlish voice called out. It took Harry a moment to work out where it had come from and discovered it was from the small stubby woman who sat on Fudge's left. Percy Weasley sat on his right, scribbling furiously and wearing a sanctimonious look on his face. "So glad you made it. We do apologize for the short notice of the change. As we reviewed your case this morning, the Wizengamot decided that things were more serious than we had been led to believe. You stand accused not only of breaking the Reasonable Restriction for Underage Sorcery, but of doing so in full view of a muggle and with no good reason. Sit."

Harry sat in a metal chair with chains attached. He half expected the chains to bind him. He'd heard they did, when serious criminals were being tried, but they made no move. "I had a reason," he said.

"The accused will not speak without permission," the woman snapped. She introduced herself as Dolores Jane Umbridge. Harry briefly remember all he'd heard the Marauders say about her today and wondered how such a wretched woman could have such a sweet voice. She went through a few other formalities and finally decreed they were ready to begin.

She immediately started to speak, but Sirius talked over her. "Mr. Potter, you said you had a reason. Please tell us what it was."

Harry launched into the story, stopping every few moments when Umbridge interrupted him to poke a hole in it. After the third interruption, Sirius cleared his throat loudly and said, "Madam Umbridge, how do you expect him to tell us anything if you won't be quiet long enough to let him?"

She leaned forward to look down the row. "Mr. Black, the Wizengamot is still not in agreement in regards to your ability to be impartial for this case. Perhaps you ought not to push your luck?"

"And yet we voted by a three-to-one margin to let me stay. I've every right to speak, and so has the accused, if you'll kindly shut it long enough to allow him finish a sentence." He turned to Harry before she could retort. "Go on, Mr. Potter."

Umbridge interrupted much less after that. Harry had no way to know how the trial was going. Kingsley Shacklebolt tesitified to Harry's upright moral character and that he had no training in Occlumency, yet had passed an interview under veritaserum. Moody spoke of his bravery in the tournament last year and his insistence on helping the other contestants, despite the cutthroat nature of the competition. Finally Dumbledore came forward. He had brought Scott in and broken James' memory charm so that he could tell about the dementors. "Harry did something. He made a silver horse or something, and the awful feeling went away."

"It was a stag," Harry said.

"You can make a corporeal patronus?" a woman asked.

"Erm, I don't know what that means."

"It has a form?"

Harry nodded. "It's a stag. It's always a stag. Like my dad's. Remus, erm, Professor Lupin, he taught me how last year, when the dementors were everywhere. He reckons they affect me more, because of my mum and everything."

He hadn't done this on purpose, but that seemed to have been the right thing to say. The looks he got were suddenly much more sympathetic.

"Is this the same Professor Lupin who was removed for being a werewolf?" Umbridge asked triumphantly.

"I didn't know he was a werewolf at the time," Harry replied. "And whatever else he may have been, he's the best Defense teacher we've ever had." He blushed slightly when he remembered Moody was in the room, but James told him later that Moody didn't mind. He said he was glad to see Harry defending Remus to the likes of Umbridge, and that he'd expect no less.

"Are there any more witnesses?" Fudge asked suddenly.

Dumbledore shook his head. Fudge called for a vote. "All who find the accused guilty." He and Umbridge and a smattering of others raised their hands. Fudge looked around, clearly unhappy with this turn of events. "All who find him innocent." The vast majority raised their hands. Fudge, looking as though the words themselves were sour, decreed, "Harry James Potter, you are hereby cleared of all charges."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He looked around for his dad, not sure what to do now. James winked at him and mouthed, "Told you."

James stood around talking for what seemed like forever, but finally they were ready to go. James had taken the day off, and he and Harry decided to go to the zoo. Harry wasn't sure why he wanted to go, except that he wanted to be somewhere that reminded him of safer days. They ate hot dogs by the tiger enclosure. "Do you think Fudge will leave me alone now?" Harry asked.

"I hope so. Word on the street is that he's on the way out. He's cheesing off too many of the wrong people. No one's happy with him right now."

"I hope he gets sacked. Who will replace him if he does?"

"There will be an election. Most likely it'll be my boss, Rufus Scrimgeor. He's all right. At least he won't pander to Death Eaters."

Harry smiled. "Then maybe you could be head auror. That would be cool."

James looked at him out of the corner of his eye, smiling a half smile. "It might be, yes. But Kingsley Shacklebolt is the more likely candidate. I'm too hot-headed."

"That is true," Harry replied with a shrug.

James grinned. "Not as hot-headed as you."

"You're old. You've just mellowed with age, that's all."

James grunted. "How are your Occlumency lessons going?"

"Good, I think. I've been practicing clearing my head every night. Sirius says after a few weeks maybe I can try sleeping without potions. He's really good at Occlumency."

James nodded. "He always says he isn't, but that's only because he was comparing himself to Regulus and his dad, who both had a natural gift. When we were third years, Snape accidentally worked out how to use legilimency. A lot of people with a natural gift for it figure it out that way. One of the older students told him what it was and taught him the spell. For a couple of weeks, he was a terror, casting it on everybody and then broadcasting what he found out. Sirius was the one who finally stopped him. Snape tried casting it on him and Sirius put up a wall or whatever it is an Occlumens can do. Snape got so angry he let Sirius in, and he got to see all sorts of useful things."

"Useful?"

James nodded. "He got quite a few humiliating bits of information that we Marauders were able to use to our advantage." Harry nodded as though he understood, even though he didn't. By this point in their lessons, Sirius had seen plenty of his embarrassing memories, and he'd seen plenty of Sirius'. He'd never dream of using any of them against him, and he trusted Sirius to do the same. But then, Harry reckoned Snape hadn't been trustworthy, so maybe it was different.

"Seems wrong to use someone's private memories against them."

James nodded once more. "It is. That's why we wanted to make him stop."

"But didn't you just turn around and do the same thing to him?"

"Yes, I suppose we did, but sometimes the best way to fight fire is with fire."

"Aren't you always telling me that there's no excuse to treat people badly?"

"Yes, but we were very young then and very frustrated. Snape was…" James shook his head, as though trying to search for the right words and coming up short. "Well, you've heard some of the stories. He enjoyed picking on the younger students, and the Marauders never did that no matter what else we may have done. We may have crossed the line into bullying a few times. Maybe more than a few times, but we did at least keep it confined to kids our own age or older, and ones who dished out as good as they got."

"He picks on students now. Hermione's front teeth got hit with an enlarging spell last year and he said he couldn't see any difference. They were past her chin. It was awful. She cried. She hardly ever cries."

James turned away from the tiger enclosure to look at the tawny lion across the way. "I wish I could say I'm surprised."

Harry turned as well, and rested his elbows against the top of the railing that lined the walkways. "Are you going to let me go back to Hogwarts?"

James twitched. "What makes you think I might not let you go back to Hogwarts?"

"He didn't tell me on purpose. I sort of saw it, in one of Sirius' memories, you two talking about it. He was really worried when I saw it because you'd asked him not to tell. He said he didn't think you really meant to keep me home." Harry looked up, trying to school his features so he wouldn't give anything away.

"I'm sorry you found out that way. That wouldn't have been my first choice. And the answer is that I don't know. Do you want to go back, with everything that happened last year?"

Harry nodded. "All my friends will be there."

James sighed. "I used to think Hogwarts was safe, you know? Dumbledore was there, and McGonagall, and Flitwick, but after last term I have to admit my faith in their ability to keep you safe is a bit rattled. If Voldemort can set out such an elaborate plan, imperius Sirius, and never once raise any suspicions, what's to say he can't get to you again?"

Harry remained silent for a moment. "What's to say he won't apparate right here and get me now?"

James gave a small nod. "Fair point. I'm just worried about you going back. There are too many balls in the air, too many variables unaccounted for. And now Dumbledore thinks… well, that doesn't matter."

"Dumbledore thinks what?"

James shook his head. "It's nothing. Besides that, Dumbledore can't seem to find a Defense professor and the ministry has given him an ultimatum. He has two weeks to find someone or they're going to appoint someone. Word around the office is that person will be Dolores Umbridge."

"Umbridge? The toad lady from the trial?"

"That's the one."

"But she's foul!"

"I know, but you reach a point where 'foul' takes a backseat to 'breathing'. Without a Defense professor, the curriculum at Hogwarts will be incomplete."

"But it would be better not to have one at all than to have her!"

"I agree, but there's not much I can do about it. The ministry has spoken, and it's an unfortunate truth in this particular political climate that Dolores Umbridge gets what Dolores Umbridge wants."

Harry pretended to gag until James chuckled and told him to knock it off. He grew serious. "So, what's your answer then? Can I go?"

"You still want to go, knowing she'll be there?"

Harry nodded again. "All right, then. You'll go. I wasn't really considering keeping you home. Only you have to check in with Sirius more often. You'll be meeting him every day for lessons anyway. Keep him up-to-speed on Snape, and Umbridge too, if she's there."

Harry grinned. "Kind of like a spy for the Order?"

James grinned back and laid a lazy arm around Harry's shoulder. "Yeah, kind of like that. Are you up to it?"

Harry nodded. "I'm up for anything the Order needs."

James smiled and pulled him in for a kiss that made him jerk away and say, "Dad! We're in public!"

"Careful, or I'll start kissing you on the cheek and calling you sweetums."

Harry's eyes widened. "You wouldn't!"

"You think not?"

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but decided against it. He'd seen his dad do more embarrassing things than that. "Okay, I give. No kissing. Can we go back to Grimmauld Place? I think I'm ready for all that celebrating I've been promised."

James smiled a smile that, for the first time in weeks, wasn't clouded by worry. "Yeah. There's a big pile of presents in my closet with your name on it. It's not every day you turn fifteen, you know."

Harry looked around to be sure no one was watching, and then hugged James fleetingly. "Can we get another hot dog before we go? I'm starving."

* * *

_A/N: Happy Thanksgiving to all you American friends. Consider this chapter my gift to you, and proof that I haven't abandoned this story. I won't abandon it, no matter how hectic things get. Among other things going on in my life, my husband and I have just become foster parents. Last month a precious and precocious seven year old, who spends most of his time pretending to be a cat, joined our family. I love motherhood, but it keeps my busy! Hopefully my next update won't take quite as long as this one did. Thanks everyone for sticking with me. Love and hugs!_


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